Bad To Worse
by yamwam
Summary: 11 year old Severus Snape's first year at Hogwarts. Will he break down under the pressure? Now updated a little. I still have piles of chapters left that I haven't even finished writing. You have to tell me if you want me to upload them.
1. To Hogwarts, At Last

At six-thirty-seven in the morning on July 25th, 197-, Severus Snape was awakened by insistent tapping at his bedroom window. Dragging his head of long, greasy black hair from the pillow, he found a screech owl knocking on the glass outside, a thick envelope clamped in its beak.

"Finally!" Severus cried, throwing open the window and grabbing the envelope from the owl. It flitted inside and perched expectantly on the back of his chair. Severus gazed at it with a frown.

"You're not waiting for a couple of Knuts, are you?" The owl wore no moneybag, but it waited all the same. "Well I haven't got anything for you, so go on! Get out!" The screech owl hooted in annoyance and took wing, deliberately cuffing Severus on the head as it departed, but he hardly noticed.

"My Hogwarts letter," he whispered blissfully, running his fingers over the green-inked words:

Mr. S. Snape

Snape Hall

Collin's Coppice

Bishop's Stortford

His father had been on him for weeks about this. Only the night before they had been fighting about it.

"Bellatrix Black's mother said she got her letter at the beginning of the month, and Rodolphus Lestrange's father owled my office all the way from bloody Paris to brag about his son's 'budding magical skills,' " Septimus Snape had growled after work, as he brooded with a glass of sherry.

Septimus was the head of the International Magical Office of Lawin the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry of Magic. He also sat on the Wizengamot, in a position traditionally passed down the Snape line. Septimus, to all appearances, enjoyed his work in diplomacy and legislation, but detested his colleagues. Their favourite pastime, if one believed his evening ranting, was boasting about their children's myriad talents.

"If your Hogwarts letter doesn't come within a fortnight, I'll be the bloody laughingstock of the office!" They all knew Septimus would never be in that position. Imperious and austere, he cut a daunting figure in all circles.

"At least he's not a Squib," Rosella Snape had murmured without looking up from her needlepoint. "That would be unendurable. Finish your cocoa, Severus darling… Imagine he were a Squib, and had to live amongst Muggles all the time! He'd go batty."

"_You_ don't know the first thing about Muggles," Septimus growled at his wife, who flushed dark pink.

"I do! I've been among them. Severus darling, you remember, don't you," she began to giggle, "that time we went into Muggle London and we were nearly run down by that metal thing, the long automobile with a giant boot…"

"A lorry, mum. I remember. And that fat Muggle woman in that shop, who was rude about our robes, and you cursed her daughter with the Hair-Thickening spell that made her hair grow to her knees?"

That had been a memorable jaunt. Only Septimus' high rank and connections in the Improper Use of Magic office had saved Rosella from prosecution. They hadn't meant to cause trouble, not at first; the allure of Muggle London lay in the exhilaration of mixing with the Muggles, the guilty pleasure of slumming; the smug satisfaction derived from knowing they were _better_ than all these other beings, that they were _special_.

Of course, the Snapes were special in other ways. For one thing, they were—or, more specifically, Severus was—the last of their line. It had been a pureblood tradition for several centuries to produce a single male heir per marriage, but the Snapes were virtually the last wizarding family in England who followed the custom. It set them apart from other families like, say, the Weasleys, who, as Septimus put it, seemed to multiply exponentially.

Because of their strict beliefs and stubborn adherence to the most ancient pureblood traditions, the Snapes were beacons of resilience and determination for other pureblood families who opposed the invasion of wizarding society by Muggle-born witches and wizards. Septimus' political opinions bordered on fanatical; this fact, combined with his high position in the Ministry, and his quite immense wealth, gave him a lot of political and societal influence.

"You're making him soft, Rosella," Septimus said in annoyance. "It's not good for a boy to run round Muggle London-"

"It was just once, Septimus-"

"And then come home and loll about like a bloody Flobberworm," Septimus went on, warming to his subject, "careless and lazy, letting his thoughts run amok while he sits here and _rots_-"

"You won't even let him near a broom!" Rosella snarled.

"If I let _you_ look after his health, he'd be long dead!" Septimus fired back.

They fought loudly and frequently. Years ago Severus had done the arithmetic: his conception predated his parents' marriage by over two months. They had married in haste and now repented at leisure. Looking at them now, listening to their arguments, he couldn't understand what had attracted them to each other in the first place.

Rosella, daughter of a French baron, had been a famed beauty in her earlier youth. Severus had seen photographs of his young mother with other members of the Parisian aristocracy. How harsh the marriage had been to her soft features, her sweet form! Now she was a waif-like creature, pale of hair and face, with large, doleful eyes. Her small shoulders were perpetually slumped beneath the weight of her strong emotions: dread of her husband, devotion to her son. Sometimes Severus felt as if her stifling solicitude for him was not borne of real love or even of duty, but of _boredom_.

Once the companion of kings and noblemen, the pivot of French urban society, Rosella's life as a housewife could be distilled as a choice between smothering her son or quarrelling with her husband, simply to pass the time. Always the dithering one, she did a fair bit of both activities.

Septimus Snape was tall, swarthy, and cold. He was an unusual wizard in that he kept a real, paying job, despite his family's prosperity. No one ever had the courage to ask him why he still worked, but Severus was certain it was an excuse to be away from his stiff, wooden family life.

Severus could sympathize. He tried to spend a lot of time away from Snape Hall, too. Whenever possible, he went to stay with Rodolphus Lestrange or Bellatrix Black, whose homes, while fairly dysfunctional themselves, at least had the advantage of not being Severus' problem.

He said earnestly, "My letter's sure to come soon, Father. But perhaps if you're worried that the other students will be cleverer than me, perhaps I could practice some magic this summer, with a- er- wand."

The suggestion garnered an immediate and violent reaction from both parents. Rosella pricked herself with her needle and Septimus nearly dropped his glass. The necessity of protecting Severus was the one thing they always agreed on. "You will not get a wand until your letter comes and we're certain you can be trusted with such a powerful magical implement."

"I know, Father, but-"

"No buts!" Septimus said sharply, giving his son a quick warning smack on the back of the head. "Or have you forgotten what happened last time you got hold of a wand?"

Severus fell silent and lowered his eyes. Rosella said softly to Septimus, "You needn't pour salt on that old wound all over again."

"Rosella, you act as if I forced the boy to steal your wand and shoot himself in the face with a Blasting Curse!"

"That was eight years ago, Father! I was confined to my bed for half a year and I still have fragile ribs—I've learned my lesson!"

"Well, you haven't exactly shown us proof that you understand the dangers of magic yet, have you?" Septimus retorted.

It was in fact quite the opposite. The accident that had nearly crippled three-year-old Severus hadn't taught him to fear magic at all. In fact, it had whetted his appetite to learn more of this astonishing power. Little did Septimus know that his son had been sneaking into his study for years to read his magical books, especially the ones on Defence Against the Dark Arts, and now knew over thirty curses and countercurses by heart. But the second and final chance he had had to steal a wand and practice them, he had accidentally Vanished his own legs and solicited the house-elves' assistance. Now, though, was clearly not the time to confess his disobedience.

"But magical ability is most crucial now, when that Dark wizard the Daily Prophet's been talking about is stalking the streets," Severus persisted, pointing at the front page of his father's newspaper. "If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters are going round killing people, I should be armed."

Septimus gave a bark of laughter. "That's the best you've got? Let me put your idiotic fears to rest. You'll be fine, so long as you don't go wandering down dark alleys _looking_ for Death Eaters. But don't go prying in what doesn't concern you, boy. You leave matters of security to me, and pray that Hogwarts letter comes soon, because if it doesn't, you'll be driving the Knight Bus for a career, I promise you that!"

"Don't harangue him so, you know he has weak nerves!" Rosella burst out fearfully.

"I'll say what I like to him—but maybe he wouldn't have weak nerves if you didn't _mollycoddle_ him all the time!"

"I do not mollycoddle him! How dare you say such a thing, you- you slug!"

Severus covered his eyes. The sound of a hand connecting with his mother's pale cheek was followed by her pained cry, then by sobs. He didn't like to be in the room when his father was striking his mother. He had run out with his hands over his ears and lain in the dirt behind the unused broom shed until the house was quiet.

But there would be no more need for tension amongst the three of them, because the letter was here at last. Severus ran downstairs in his pyjamas to show it to his parents, which showed how excited he was: proper dress and dignified conduct were to be observed at all times in the Snape household.

One week earlier, in the gardens of a mansion miles away, James Potter had been engrossed in the latest adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle. A brown owl had deposited an identical envelope in his lap. He dropped his comic book in glee and snatched up the thick envelope. "Fantastic!" he shouted to no one in particular, as the owl fluttered into a nearby birdbath and distressed a pair of doves.

And two weeks before that, a barn owl had caused a terrific ruckus in the Basingstoke kitchen of the Evans family, by soaring through the window and landing in a bowl of porridge. It was carrying a thick envelope addressed in green ink to the youngest daughter, Lily.

"Great Scott!" cried Lily's father, leaping up and prodding the owl with his London Times. "What the devil is an owl doing on the kitchen table?"

"Perhaps it would like a bite to eat?" suggested Lily's mother nervously, who, when confronted with unexpected guests, inevitably fell back on her prim English hospitability. She was proven right when the barn owl dropped the letter in Lily's lap and dipped its beak in her coffee, then hungrily eyed the half-muffin on the elder daughter Petunia's plate.

"No, no, no!" shrieked Petunia, panicking and trying to push it away. "This isn't happening! Owls are nocturnal—they live in forests—they don't steal coffee or muffins!"

She fled. The owl began to nibble at the sausage as Lily tore open the envelope and read in a small shocked voice, " 'Dear Miss Evans, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_!' "

* * *

With one final push Severus and his father jammed his trunk onto an overhead rack of the Hogwarts Express. Septimus Snape turned his stern gaze on his only child.

"Think you'll be all right on your own?"

"Yes, Father."

"We'll send you a little something tomorrow," Rosella said tearfully. Septimus shot her a sharp look, which she tried to ignore as she embraced Severus. "Good-bye, my darling."

"Good-bye, Mother. Would you ask the house-elves to send a few sweets? I don't know how good the food will be at Hogwarts."

"Of course, Severus darling, whatever you want."

"Well," said Septimus, staring down at his son. Severus waited for words of encouragement or pride, but Septimus only said gruffly, "Don't embarrass us."

Was that all? Severus stared at him, then said in a strangled voice, "Yes, Father."

"See you at Christmas," Septimus said curtly. Severus watched his parents walk away till they passed through the barrier. Then he turned slowly and boarded the train.

He wandered the length of the train, looking for an empty seat, but every compartment seemed to be full of students much older than he. Even when there was an open seat he didn't dare to ask for it, only shut the door quietly, intimidated, and moved on.

Towards the end of the train he found a compartment occupied by only one girl, who was sitting and staring out the window absently, while turning her wand over and over in her hands. She had dark red hair and long, gawky limbs. Severus imagined her walk; in his head it looked like a fawn's first awkward steps. He watched her for a moment from the door, then decided to end his search. When he cleared his throat, she turned quickly and saw him.

"Hello," she said, seeming startled.

But it was Severus who was startled, because she had the most astonishing green eyes he had ever seen, almond-shaped mint rock-crystal eyes. When he realized the eyes were fixed questioningly on him, he stammered, "Sorry—do, ah, d'you mind if I join you?"

"No, go ahead," said the girl. He sat across from her. "I'm Lily Evans," she said.

"Severus Snape," said Severus. They didn't shake hands because she was still toying with her wand. She blushed a little when she saw him looking at it, and she put it away.

"You're a first year too then?" he asked.

Lily nodded. She looked nervous and he said so.

"I _am _nervous," she admitted. "I don't know anyone—except you now, obviously… Everything's new and strange."

Severus looked at her curiously. "Then you're not-"

He was interrupted by the door sliding open. A short plump girl with spectacles and long yellow braids popped her head in. "Hi! Can I sit here?"

"Sure," said Lily.

The girl marched in and plopped down next to Lily. "I've been searching forever for an empty seat. First years?" She was rather plump, Severus thought to himself disdainfully, and her long yellow braids made her look juvenile. When he nodded she said, "Me too, aren't you excited? I'm Petula Swipe."

Severus and Lily introduced themselves. Petula said to Severus, "I can't place your face, but you look familiar."

"Maybe we met at one of the Malfoy family's parties," suggested Severus. "There are always loads of other wizarding kids our age."

"I don't think so," said Petula.

"Severus!" cried a voice from the doorway.

Severus closed his eyes and groaned inwardly, recognizing the owner of the voice. But Lily and Petula both looked with interest at Rodolphus Lestrange, a good-looking, genial boy with close-cropped blonde hair. He was small and slight, something he had always considered a flaw, contrasting himself with his brawny older brother Rabastan. Rodolphus was Severus' oldest childhood companion and, ironically, the one person he had hoped to be able to avoid at Hogwarts.

When Severus opened his eyes Rodolphus had squeezed in between Lily and Petula, and he himself was sandwiched between Bellatrix Black and a bored-looking, dark-haired boy he had never met.

"How've you been, mate?" Rodolphus said brightly to Severus. "I haven't seen you since the Quidditch World Cup in July. And who are these ladies?"

"I'm Petula Swipe," Petula said.

"_Enchanté_," said Rodolphus, kissing her hand grandly as she giggled and blushed. Severus, to his surprise, heard the dark-haired boy next to him mutter under his breath, "Git."

"Hello Rodolphus, Belle," said Severus cautiously.

"Severus," Bellatrix said archly. She had thick, sleek dark hair, and a sly smile. She was another of Severus' best friends, and another person he'd wanted to avoid.

She gestured to the bored boy. "I don't believe you know my cousin Sirius. He's been…" she frowned, "out of the country… for a few years."

Severus smiled thinly. He knew Sirius Black by reputation only: Mrs. Black had shipped her troublesome son off to a reformatory school in Ireland after he set off fireworks in his brother's hat—while his brother's head was still in it.

"How do you do," Sirius Black said without interest to Severus. Then Sirius caught sight of Lily and brightened. "How _do_ you do! I'm Sirius Black."

Lily grinned vaguely, but she was looking at Bellatrix. "Oh, hello Bellatrix. I don't know if you remember, but we met in Ollivander's..."

"Yes, certainly, 'willow, ten and a quarter inches, whippy'," joked Bellatrix, doing a credible imitation of the eccentric and somewhat sinister wandmaker Ollivander. "But sorry, I didn't catch your name before."

"I'm Lily, Lily Evans."

"_Evans_," Rodolphus repeated. "That's not a surname I'm familiar with."

She shrugged. "No, I suppose it wouldn't be. I'm from a non-magic family."

The casual remark froze Severus. Of course he knew about Mudbloods but he'd never actually _met _one. His family was pureblood, and pureblood children were brought up with the knowledge that their kind was infinitely superior to that of Muggle-born witches and wizards.

It was an inarguable fact of life, and was the main reason that the Snape, Lestrange, and Black parents socialized, often in spite of thinly veiled dislike.

"Non-magic, really?" said Rodolphus, raising his eyebrows discreetly at Severus.

"Yes, I had no idea things like Hogwarts and witches and magic even existed outside of books until my letter came," Lily went on, apparently oblivious to their sudden discomfort. "It's all very queer to me—but you must all have grown up with this sort of thing. Do you all know each other?"

"Our parents work at the Ministry of Magic," Bellatrix said, indicating herself, Severus, and Rodolphus.

"And Sev and I have been best mates since we were in nappies," said Rodolphus, using a nickname that Severus hated.

"My name is Severus," he said through clenched teeth, adding, "Roddy."

Rodolphus shuddered at the mention of his own detested nickname. "All right, all right, _Severus_." Turning hastily back to Lily, he said, "So you don't know anything about magic? Not even about Hogwarts houses?"

"Houses?"

"Yes, you know, Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff," explained Sirius. "We'll all get separated into the four houses during the Sorting Ceremony when we get to Hogwarts. But we all know that traditionally Ravenclaw gets the brainy ones, Hufflepuff gets the hard-working ones, Gryffindor gets the rebellious--sorry, courageous--ones, and Slytherin gets the most ambitious ones."

"Slytherin is the best house by far," said Bellatrix. Rodolphus and Severus nodded confidently, and Petula agreed after a moment, but Lily looked perplexed and Sirius only snorted.

"You're not telling me you've already all picked your house?" he said derisively. "Didn't we all come here to get out of our little gangs? Frankly, I've seen enough of Rodolphus and Bella to last me a lifetime, and I'm not looking forward to sharing a common room with them for the next seven years, so if you're all picking Slytherin I think I'll choose something else."

"_If you're all picking Slytherin I'll choose something else_," Bellatrix mimicked in a singsong voice. "What will your mother say to that, Sirius? Blacks are always in Slytherin."

"So are Snapes, but I'll be lucky if I get in," Severus said grimly. "According to my father the only advantage I have is my name."

"Maybe if you hadn't had the accident, you'd at least be more able-wanded," Rodolphus said unhelpfully. Severus shot him a dark, searching look—when Rodolphus said mean things, it was difficult to tell whether it was out of malice or sheer stupidity.

"How do we go about choosing our houses?" Lily asked.

"Well, I don't know really," said Petula, looking anxious, "but I heard that we'd have to take a test to see how much we knew about magic."

"My brother Rabastan said we'd have to duel each other and the winners would get into the houses of their choice, and the losers would get shunted into any random house, to make up equal numbers," Rodolphus said. "But he got into Slytherin, and he's barely scraping by, so his story really doesn't hold water."

"I suppose I'll become Ravenclaw, as I've always been first in my form at regular school," Lily said without egoism. "I did start reading some of my textbooks as soon as I got them from Flourish & Blott's—but it was all a bit confusing."

"That's understandable," said Bellatrix, oozing false sympathy. "After all, Muggles are usually too oblivious to even notice magic at all! You certainly were lucky to be plucked from the—er—mire of ignorance, as it were."

Lily frowned. "I find that rather rude. You make it sound as if I won a raffle."

Severus put in, coldly, "Actually, it is a bit like a raffle, for _your_ type. When a magical child is born, his or her name is written on a list by a magic quill. Hogwarts sends out letters to the magical children when they are of age."

"It's simple as that," agreed Rodolphus. "You just happened to have been born magic to Muggle parents. But it doesn't matter what you've done with your life up to this point. I think you'll come to understand, Lily, that the entire order of magical society is dictated by birthright."

Rodolphus was quoting almost verbatim from his father's lectures. "And you may find that your particular heritage is somewhat of a disadvantage."

"I beg your pardon?" Lily said coldly. Petula was glancing between them uncertainly and Sirius Black had leaned his head back and was listening silently, with his eyes half-closed.

"Being Muggle-born carries a certain stigma," Bellatrix said. "We're all from pureblood families-"

"Which, I suppose, are the sort that would never stoop to allow Muggle-borns into their breeding pool," Lily interrupted sarcastically.

"Well- yes, I suppose." Bellatrix was smiling sweetly, but her dark eyes were challenging. At times like these she quite frightened Severus, as she had a tendency to cause nearby objects to spontaneously burst into flame, though she had recently been getting treatment for her temper. He found little comfort in the St. Mungo Healers' assurances that her affliction would disappear in time—_they _weren't going to have to live with her while they waited out their childhood.

"Slytherin usually doesn't even accept Muggle-borns. There's a theory that pureblood witches and wizards are more powerful than Muggle-borns, and, naturally, pureblood clans are a bit wary of propagating substandard wizards."

She smiled as the word _substandard_ registered.

Lily looked like she wanted to slap Bellatrix, and for a moment Severus thought she might; but then she drew in a deep breath and calmed herself, and said with barely restrained sarcasm, "Fine, if you're all so clever about this magical social order, enlighten me as to how I can drag myself out of this 'mire of ignorance'."

"Well I don't know if you can," Rodolphus said thoughtfully. "It's a _very _exclusive society."

"I see," Lily said coldly. "Well, if I get desperate I can always marry into a pureblood family, I suppose?"

"Oh, I don't know about that, Lily," said Bellatrix. Severus tried to gauge Bellatrix's annoyance from the honey-sweetness of her voice, the tightness of her jaw. It was the first time either of them had met a Mudblood. There was a great difference between meeting a real Mudblood and reading in the newspaper about one of them being murdered. The hem of Severus' trousers began to smoke, but as he was used to such little fires, he carelessly put it out with a slap.

"Like I said, most pureblood clans aren't exactly keen to embrace Muggle-borns into the heart of their families," Bellatrix went on, her eyes sparkling with malice. "There's a name for you people, you know—you're called Mudbloods."

Lily gave a start and put a hand to her mouth. "Mudbloods? As in 'dirty blood?' That's horrible!"

Bellatrix shrugged, clearly pleased that she had rattled Lily. "It's only a word."

She was saved another murderous look from Lily as the door slid open again, to reveal three boys. The first was tall and wiry, with round glasses framing hazel eyes, jet-black hair flying up in all directions, and a wand in one hand. He was flanked by a sandy-haired boy with thoughtful eyes and a short, fat blond boy wearing an eager, nervous grin.

"Hello," said the boy with the wild black fringe, grinning. "You're all first-years too? I'm James, and here's Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew."

"Hello," said Remus Lupin, surveying the occupants of the compartment.

"Oh! I remember you," Lily said to James.

James looked pleased. "My reputation precedes me!"

"So does your smell," Severus muttered, touching his nose.

James flushed in annoyance and everyone else sniggered. The three newcomers gave off a faint odour of smoke and brimstone.

"No," Lily said through her shy giggles, "I saw you in Flourish & Blotts. You were there right before me and you bought the last copy of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_. I had to make a special order to the publisher, it took forever to get to me."

"Oh. Well sorry," James said carelessly.

The six in the compartment introduced themselves; then Rodolphus asked, "Why do you reek of smoke?"

"Are they raising dragons in the locomotive?" drawled Sirius Black.

"No, actually," said Lupin, "we reek because we've got hold of some Floo powder and we're planning to make a magical fire and see if an Ashwinder will slither out."

"Why?" Severus asked.

James shrugged. "Just for fun. Who wants to join us?"

"I do," said Sirius, perking up. "I don't think you'll be able to do it, but anything's better than sitting round talking about nothing."

"Aren't Ashwinders dangerous?" Petula asked. "I've heard that one egg alone can burn down a whole house!"

"I don't think you should be messing about with silly tricks, Sirius," Bellatrix said bossily. "I promised Aunt Lacerta I wouldn't let you get into trouble."

"Well, my mum's not here now, is she?" Sirius retorted. When Bellatrix scowled, he mimed choking and fiddling with something at his throat.

"What are you doing?" Bellatrix demanded.

"Untying myself from your apron strings," Sirius said gleefully, hurrying out. He, Lupin and Pettigrew went off down the hall.

James laughed. "I suppose you're not too keen on our plan then, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Stow it, Potter."

Potter grinned and turned to Lily Evans.

"And you? Don't you want to practice some magic, in case we need it for the Sorting Ceremony?"

"Yes, it sounds rather interesting, though I don't think you'll succeed," Lily said, standing up.

Potter glanced at Severus, who hadn't yet objected to the Ashwinder. "What about you?" he said coolly.

"Well…" Severus did sort of want to see whether an Ashwinder could be conjured from their magical fire, but Rodolphus interrupted:

"No, Sev's staying here."

He looked very hard at Severus, who said slowly, "I guess I am."

Lily studied him for a moment. "You know, you have quite good posture for someone with no backbone," she said suddenly.

Abashed, Severus could not think of a reply before she turned on her heel and left, the door sliding shut behind her and muffling James Potter's chuckling.

"Imagine a Mudblood presuming to sit with _us_," Bellatrix said disdainfully.

"You came in _after_ her," Severus reminded her.

Bellatrix shrugged with a complacent smirk. "Only because you were already here, Sev. In any case we've put her in her place."

Petula said uneasily, "You don't think you went too far with that stuff about dirty blood and elite social orders?"

"No," answered Bellatrix flatly. "I didn't say anything she shouldn't know."

"Oh come on Bella, it's not like it's the first time you've met a Mudblood," Rodolphus chided. "What did you think of those other blokes, Potter and them?"

"_Une bande d'écervelés_," Severus said with a grin. ('A bunch of nutcases.')

Rodolphus laughed. "That Potter, _un vrai bouseux_!" ('He's a real bumpkin.')

"English, please," Bellatrix said crossly, while Petula looked puzzled.

Severus and Rodolphus smirked. They always spoke French when they wanted privacy, because they were both fluent and Bellatrix had never bothered with any European cultures.

Severus let Rodolphus translate their remarks while he stared out the window. He was still dwelling on Lily Evans' parting jibe.

He wasn't really spineless, was he? He'd always been content to tag along with Rodolphus and their other friends, while taking as small a part in their antics as possible. His father had taught him to fear reckless escapades, not so much for the danger involved but for the inevitable punishment at the end of the fun.

He realized how reticent his detachment made him seem to the other youths, but was always well aware of Hogwarts, which promised emancipation from years of careful diffidence and distance. Like Sirius Black had said, Hogwarts was a place to branch out and explore new prospects.

And he would never say it to Rodolphus' face, but he was beginning to get sick of him. Long ago they had been real best friends, roaming the hills from dawn till dusk and causing their parents no end of worry. They liked catching toads to put in people's beds, and pinching bags of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans from Rodolphus' older brother Rabastan. They even had a special way of eating them, always splitting each bean in half, to share equally the risk of encountering the bad flavours like grass and ear wax.

But as in most friendships, their bond faded as they began to grow up. Rodolphus pursued trouble more actively, while Severus retreated into books and learning. Severus had hoped to avoid Rodolphus as much as possible and make new friends among their classmates, but he saw now that his plan had been preposterously unrealistic. Rodolphus would never leave him alone, and they were all going to be in Slytherin together anyway.

_How_, Severus thought miserably, _will I get myself out of this?_

The other three continued to talk, leaving him to his dour ruminations until the shrill train whistle interrupted their conversation. The Hogwarts Express began to decelerate. A voice on the loudspeaker instructed them to leave their luggage on the train, as it would follow them up. They located their crisp new Hogwarts robes and put them on. Brushing off a speck of dust, Severus felt much older and strangely elegant.

Presently the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade station. Students spilled onto the platform, the older ones laughing and greeting old friends, the first years nervously collecting in a corner as they recognized people the same age and size as themselves, and wearing identical wide-eyed expressions of apprehension.

"Firs' years, firs' years over 'ere!" called a huge man in a new moleskin overcoat. Bellatrix let out a shriek of surprise when she saw him. The huge man was waving a frilled pink umbrella to attract the attention of the first-year students, though the gesticulations seemed quite unnecessary as they were all already gaping at him. Severus observed with some dismay that he would not reach the height of the man's chest if he stood on Rodolphus' shoulders.

The giant man was counting heads. "Thirty-five, thirty-six... I reckon that's all. I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts! Righ' then, come on, firs' years, to the boats!"

"_Malédiction_! Those miserable boats?" Rodolphus muttered in dismay, and a few people laughed.

Privately, Severus felt the same way as he stared at the rickety little flotilla assembled on the shore. Hagrid had one all to himself, which sank alarmingly as he got in.

Severus was followed into his boat by Petula Swipe, Lily Evans, and Remus Lupin. As their vessel slipped magically into the water, Severus felt an elbow in his ribs. "Did you see that hideous overcoat?" Petula whispered with a giggle.

"Poverty-chic," Severus grinned. "Why is he so tall, I wonder?"

"Maybe he's a giant," suggested Lupin.

Lily Evans started in surprise. "Oh! Do they really exist? I wouldn't have thought it possible."

"You didn't believe we could conjure an Ashwinder either," said Lupin.

"Did you?" Petula asked.

"Well, no, not really. I think you have to leave it burning for a few hours. Sirius Black wants to try again when we reach the school."

They passed under an outcropping of rock. "Watch yer 'eads now, careful... and 'ere's 'ogwarts!" called Hagrid. There were gasps from all the first years.

"It's breathtaking!" Petula murmured.

Severus was in total agreement. Rising up from a bank of sheer cliffs, seemingly carved from the same rock, Hogwarts was an enormous and quite intimidating castle whose numerous lit windows were reflected in the black hyaline waters of the lake. Here was their home for the next ten months—and for six more years after that. Not for the first time, Severus felt a tremor of anxiety.

Lily suddenly gave a little shriek and half-rose, throwing them all off-balance.

"Sit down or we'll tip over! What is it?" Lupin exclaimed as they all gripped the sides of the boat, trying to right themselves.

"Sorry, sorry," Lily gasped, sitting down, "but there was this slimy sort of thing that came up over the side and touched my arm—look, there it is!"

Severus looked up in time to see a pale tentacle slide back into the dark waters without a ripple. This must be the giant squid, mentioned numerous times in _Hogwarts, A History_, which Severus had read cover to cover over the summer.

In his excitement he forgot himself. "The giant squid!" he cried, jumping up, and this time the boat really did tip over into the lake.


	2. The Sorting

The first-years arrived at the front doors.  Hagrid left them in the Entrance Hall, still chuckling over the sodden state of the four who had been rescued from their unexpected dip in the lake by the giant squid itself. 

Severus was freezing and mortified.  Lily and Petula kept shooting him dirty looks as they wrung out their hair, though Lupin appeared to take it all in stride; Severus soon spotted him joking with Pettigrew, Potter and Black, flapping his soggy sleeves like a raven caught in a cloudburst.

"Good evening," called a strident, authoritative voice.  The first-years turned to find a witch with a tight black chignon surveying them through square glasses.  She was tall and looked to be in her mid-fifties.

"Welcome to Hogwarts.  I am Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor." She paused, noticing the four dripping students. "Went for a swim?" she asked archly.

"No, er..." began Severus, feeling very embarrassed.

"The giant squid overturned our boat," said Lily, not looking at him.  Severus felt his face grow hot.  He didn't need anyone to help him, least of all a _Mudblood_—but before he could say this, Professor McGonagall sniffed, "If you say so.  Come here."

They approached her cautiously.  She drew her wand and muttered something, and a white mist poured from the end of it and began to dry out their wet robes.  She went on talking with her wand out.

"In a few moments I shall take you into the Great Hall for the start-of-term banquet- but first, the Sorting Ceremony will take place."

She went on explaining the houses and the points system, which Severus had already gleaned from _Hogwarts, A History_.  Rodolphus sidled up to him and elbowed his damp side.

"We'll try for Slytherin, right?" he whispered.

"Of course," Severus whispered back.  Then he began rather awkwardly, "But Rodolphus, I'm not sure I, er, want to be with you and Bella anymore."

Rodolphus cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

"I'm saying I don't want to… er, be friends anymore."

"I don't understand.  Look, tell me later, I'm trying to listen to-"

"Ahem," said Professor McGonagall, and Severus realized she was staring at them.

"Sorry," he and Rodolphus muttered.  Professor McGonagall said, "Quite dry now?  All right.  This way."

She led them through the giant double doors behind her, into a vast and beautiful chamber.  Hundreds of students sat at four long tables, two on either side of a long aisle leading to a fifth table on a raised platform.  This was clearly the head table, where the teachers and Headmaster sat. 

Severus took in the enchanted ceiling.  _Hogwarts, A History_ had said the vast dome was charmed to reflect the sky outside.  The last red beams of the sunset stained crimson the few trailing clouds in the western sky; but to the east the stars were already visible, bright winking pinpricks in a blue-black wash.  Between his upturned face and the enchanted dome hung thousands of candles, low but just beyond his reach.

As he advanced between the tables with the other first years, Severus began to worry.  What would the Sorting be like?  Maybe he would have to tame a snake, like the one in Slytherin's crest.  An image jumped, unbidden, to his mind, of himself struggling with a boa constrictor and getting his viscera squeezed out his throat. 

What if he couldn't get into Slytherin?  His parents would be furious.  They might even bring him home if he didn't get into the right house.  He was fairly certain his father had been joking when he'd threatened to make Severus drive the Knight Bus as a career—but with Septimus Snape, it was hard to tell when he was speaking in earnest and when he was being sarcastic.

On the platform before the head table was a three-legged stool, on top of which sat a drab black object.  The first years formed a line facing the other students and the stool.  Severus' mind raced.  What sort of devilry would leap from this black bag?  He pictured a mountain troll lumbering out of its fabric prison, or cloven-footed demons springing from the black sack amid twenty-foot columns of flame...

Just as his anxiety was reaching fever pitch, Professor McGonagall approached the stool with a length of parchment and raised her hands to quiet the students.

Once silence had fallen over the Great Hall, the black raggedy object straightened up and Severus saw that it wasn't a bag at all, but a patched, frayed pointed hat.  Then a rip near the brim opened and, to the first-years' astonishment, the hat began to sing.

_[A/N: Ideally I would insert a Sorting Hat song here, but I really suck at poetry.  You know the gist of it: the houses are named after the four Founders, Godric Gryffindor the brave, Helga Hufflepuff the resolute, Rowena Ravenclaw the studious, and Salazar Slytherin the ambitious.  When you try on the Sorting Hat, it announces what house you belong in.]_

At the end of the song the students burst into applause.

"Thank God!" whispered Petula, clutching her chest. "All we've got to do is put on a hat!"

"Perhaps we've got a prayer after all," Rodolphus said to Severus in great relief.

Professor McGonagall had unrolled her parchment. "When I call your name, you will come to the front and put on the Sorting Hat.  Abbott, Gladys!"

After a few seconds on Gladys Abbott's head, the Sorting Hat proclaimed loudly to the Great Hall, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The table on Severus' right exploded with cheers, and as Gladys Abbott went and sat down, Professor McGonagall went on with her list. "Avery, Alexis!"

"SLYTHERIN!" The table on the far right burst into applause.  Severus breathed a sigh of relief.  That looked easy enough. 

"Black, Bellatrix!"

"Here goes nothing," murmured Bellatrix, and stepped forward to take the Sorting Hat.  It had barely touched her head when it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

As Bellatrix hurried, grinning, to take her seat at the cheering far table, Professor McGonagall called out, "Black, Sirius!"

Black took up the Hat, but he spent more time than his cousin underneath it.  Severus could see his lips moving silently.  He seemed to be arguing with the Hat.  Rodolphus was muttering, "Come on Sirius, don't let it put you anywhere but Slytherin-" but the rip opened and the Hat declared, "GRYFFINDOR!"

"What!" said Rodolphus in horror. "There must be some mistake."

"Well, you heard him in the train, he wanted another house," Severus said, watching Black jog towards the Gryffindor table with a smile as "Bulstrode, Fulton" was made a Slytherin. "Still, he could've asked for Ravenclaw.  What is a _Black_ doing in Gryffindor?"

"Disgracing us, that's what," Rodolphus said in disgust as he applauded for the new Hufflepuff "Catchglove, Greta". "We're better off without him."

Professor McGonagall continued down the alphabet, though Severus was too preoccupied with his own worries to pay much attention.  The Mudblood Lily Evans from the train spent nearly a minute under the Sorting Hat, and she eventually became a Gryffindor, to Severus' satisfaction.  What an outrage it would have been if a half-breed violated the pureblood sanctity of Slytherin!

After "Jenkins, Joey" became a Ravenclaw, Rodolphus got his wish and joined Bellatrix at the Slytherin table, while Lupin from the train got into Gryffindor and immediately sat with Black.  Following the induction of "McCormack, Megan" and "O'Toole, Balthazar" into Ravenclaw, Lupin and Black were joined by Pettigrew and Potter.  They both came from old wizarding families, but those had earned the disdain of other purebloods like Severus' parents by having roots in Gryffindor, a house that accepted far too many Mudbloods.

"Riley, Reed!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

As 'Q' and 'R' swept by, Severus' stomach began to flutter.  What if the Hat tried to put him in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw?  Would he have to argue to be put in Slytherin?  The cry, "Sinque, Priya!" and the reply, "GRYFFINDOR!" registered and Severus applauded absently.

He began to quickly organize his arguments in his head: one, every Snape who had come to Hogwarts had been placed in Slytherin, and his father's sense of tradition was extreme; two, he knew he wouldn't feel comfortable in any of the other houses; three, much as he wished to avoid them, and much as he wanted to befriend new people, he was afraid of being separated from the familiar faces of Rodolphus and Bellatrix.

Besides, from what he knew of the Slytherins' traits, he felt certain he would be belong there.  He was clever and he wanted to find success.  He was a born Slytherin—he had to be!

"Snape, Severus!" called Professor McGonagall, and Petula nudged him forward, whispering, "Good luck!"

He sat down cautiously, the arguments ready in his head, but the Sorting Hat had barely fallen over his eyes when it bellowed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Weak with relief at having avoided the terrible wrath of his father, Severus was not above thinking a fervent "Thank you!" to which the Hat responded in his ear, "I did what you asked.  I can see you're not one who's easily swayed."

Then Professor McGonagall took up the Hat to give to "Winthrop, Leonora," and Severus hurried to the Slytherin table, wondering whether the Hat's last remark had been derogatory or complimentary.

After the Sorting Hat had finished putting "Winthrop, Leonora" in Ravenclaw, Professor McGonagall rolled up her parchment and took away the Hat and stool, and the ancient smiling wizard sitting in the largest chair at the centre of the head table stood up.

"That must be the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore," Rodolphus whispered to Petula Swipe, who had also been placed in Slytherin.  Severus had learned a bit about Dumbledore from books and the Famous Witches and Wizards card that came with Chocolate Frogs, and he now found the real wizard quite fascinating, with his long silver beard and golden half-moon spectacles. 

The Headmaster began pleasantly, "Good evening, and welcome to Hogwarts!  I haven't been this happy since Puddlemere United won the League Cup." The Quidditch fans at the tables—and there were many—cheered, and Dumbledore chuckled. "But we can chat about Quidditch later.  Now let's tuck into this scrumptious feast!"

The golden plates suddenly filled with food.  Severus stared.  Then, realizing he had eaten nothing but a pumpkin pasty and a couple of Chocolate Frogs since breakfast, he joined the others in shovelling the delicious food into his mouth.

"Well, let's see what we've netted," drawled a familiar voice.  Severus looked up and found Lucius Malfoy, a tall shrewd seventh year with light hair and pale eyes, sitting beside Evan Rosier.  On Malfoy's other side was Narcissa Black, Bellatrix's older sister, daintily spearing a chipolata.  Narcissa was in fifth year.  She had fair hair, ghostly white skin, and a turned-up nose.

"Lucius, I heard you'd been made Head Boy," said Rodolphus. "Congratulations."

"Thank you very much," said Malfoy, whose chest was thrust out so the silver badge with the engraving 'Head Boy' could not possibly be missed. "And congratulations to you all on making Slytherin house."

"My mother will be ever so pleased," said Maud Wilkes, a slight girl with pale, almost albinic skin and flax-coloured hair cut below her ears in a straight line.  Around her white neck, she wore an choker enormous encrusted with glimmering black jewels that made her look very frail by contrast. "She was afraid I'd get into Ravenclaw because I'm so clever."

"Yes, I'm sure you are," Bellatrix said, arching a discreet eyebrow at Severus, who grinned into his steak. "But we won't really know who's smartest until classes start tomorrow, will we?"

"I hope you all at least cracked your books before coming, because I found my first day of classes very trying," remarked Narcissa.

Suddenly she and Malfoy gasped and ducked, but before Severus could ask why, something ice-cold swept straight through his ears and gave him the horrible feeling his brain had frozen over.  Dozens of ghosts were swooping through the walls and dropping in between students.  Petula Swipe screamed and dropped a potato in Rodolphus' lap as a gaunt, pearly-white apparition settled itself between Severus and Maud Wilkes.

"Oh, Bloody Baron, good evening," said Malfoy, his voice higher than usual.  Narcissa had gone pale. "En- enjoying yourself tonight?  These are, ah, the n-new Slytherin first years."

The Bloody Baron, a menacing but noble-looking ghost covered in what was clearly to be silvery bloodstains, nodded silently at Malfoy, then turned to inspect the first years pensively.  Severus quietly put down his fork, having lost his appetite.

"What sort of things will we do in Defence Against the Dark Arts?" he asked Malfoy.

"Nothing hard to start with, Snape, you needn't worry.  Just a few very basic jinxes, possibly a defensive spell or something.  It's taught by Professor Astaroth, Head of Slytherin."

He nodded towards a tall wizard who very closely resembled a skeleton.  He had a sparse, tufted grey hair and violently purple eyes.  He was conversing with Professor McGonagall.  Both teachers had forced smiles as if they would rather be chatting up a dragon.

"Skeletal, isn't he?  Probably from lack of sleep.  They say he never sleeps at all—spends all the time writing treatises on Dark Arts defences and conspiracy theories.  Used to be a top Auror at the Ministry.  He's keen on deciphering the theory and mechanics behind magic, so he won't let you do much actual magic for a bit, not until you understand the theoretical basis of the curses.  No question though, he's quite brilliant, and quite mad at the same time.  I should warn you though, he's a rather unorthodox teacher—he acts like he's still at the Ministry.  Loves to talk about all the Dark wizards he captured and how he bossed Aurors around.  But he always favours Slytherins in class, so in return we win him the House Cup.  We've won it nine years running—McGonagall and the other Heads are getting rather crabby." Malfoy smirked.

Evan Rosier was a skinny Black boy with curly hair and skin pulled tightly across his face, giving him a tough look. "What is _that_?" he asked Severus in disgust, pointing at the lumpy pie with mushy, oozing, grey-green filling on his plate.

"Stoat pie," said Severus, devouring his food (the Bloody Baron had floated away to hover near the ceiling). "With soft-boiled glossops.  This recipe's just like our house-elves', it really is excellent."

"No it's not," Rodolphus warned Rosier as he went to take a piece. "It's an absolute quagmire of nauseating swill."

"It's a horrible old tradition in Sev's family," said Bellatrix. "He's the only one who can stand the stuff, let alone enjoy it."

"This is a delicacy," Severus laughed. "You obviously have no refinement."

"Blecchh!  You obviously have no taste buds!" Rosier cried, having just sampled the stoat and glossop pie.  After that no one else went near it.

"What's the hardest class, do you think?" Bellatrix asked her sister.

Narcissa frowned thoughtfully. "The hardest?  Transfiguration, for me.  Or Potions, you know how awful Andromeda is at that." They both glanced towards the Ravenclaw table, where the third Black sister, a pretty fourth year, was laughing with her friends.

"I'm so glad you got into Slytherin with me, Bella," said Narcissa, smiling affectionately at Bellatrix.

"We're always pleased to have more Blacks in Slytherin," Malfoy said, smiling widely and rather foolishly at Bellatrix, who glared fixedly at her plate.  Severus and Rodolphus exchanged worried looks.  They knew Malfoy and Narcissa were in love and would probably get married after leaving Hogwarts; they also knew how much Bellatrix hated the idea, which was why Malfoy was trying to endear himself to her.

"You were only six when it happened," Narcissa went on, not noticing her sister's displeasure, "but I'm you'll remember the fit Mum had when Andromeda got into Ravenclaw.  The same'll happen with Sirius, you wait and see.  Poor old Aunt Lacerta will be having kittens."

"I think I'll write my parents tonight," Severus declared as the empty dishes cleared of food and were replaced by the delectable desserts. "To show my father I'm not a total disgrace."

"Are you being sarcastic?" Rodolphus asked. "I can never tell with you.  Pass the treacle tart, will you, Petula?"

After the last morsels of jelly doughnuts and chocolate éclairs had vanished, Dumbledore got to his feet again.

"Now that we've all been sated, I have a few start-of-term announcements.  First years, our groundskeeper Hagrid has asked me to remind you that the Dark Forest is forbidden to all students.  We received complaints more than once last year from the centaurs and the other wild creatures, that students were roaming through the forest."

Severus saw Malfoy and Narcissa exchange a conspiring smile.  Bellatrix rolled her eyes.

"Mr. Filch, our caretaker, also wishes me to repeat that ancient and increasingly ignored rule, magic must not, under any circumstances, be used in the corridors.  Students found breaking this rule will lose two house points, so keep your wands in your pockets!

"The Quidditch trials will take place in the second week of term.  For information regarding vacant positions on the house teams, please see Madam Hooch." Again Malfoy looked smug.

"I'm captain of the Slytherin house team, in case you didn't know," he hissed loudly to the first years.  Bellatrix rolled her eyes again.

"Finally, you may have noticed a brand-new addition to the flora on the grounds.  Professor Sprout has planted a valuable and very rare Whomping Willow on the southeastern lawns as an experiment.  I must insist that you all steer clear of the Whomping Willow.  Though it may look innocent while staying still, it packs quite a wallop when anyone get within ten feet of it.  Do not approach it unless you want to spend a few weeks in the hospital wing, recovering from a severe flogging."

Some students laughed, but most were looking curious.  Severus, too, was wondering what the Whomping Willow was like, and whether Dumbledore was joking about the severe flogging.  That tree couldn't hit harder than his father, Severus reflected wryly.

"And before we go our separate ways, let us sing the school song!" said Dumbledore.  He flicked his wand again and a gold ribbon uncurled wispily from the end of it and looped in the air into large words. "Choose your favourite tune," said Dumbledore. "Ready?  Begin!"

The whole school hollered,

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,   
Teach us something, please,   
Whether we be old and bald   
Or young with scabby knees,   
Our heads could do with filling   
With some interesting stuff,   
For now they're bare and full of air,   
Dead flies and bits of fluff,   
So teach us things worth knowing,   
Bring back what we've forgot,   
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,   
And learn until our brains all rot."

"Wonderful, wonderful!" cried Dumbledore at the end, looking misty-eyed. "Such a marvellous rendition.  I can tell this will be a spectacular year.  And now, off to bed!  Good night to you all!"

"This way, first years," Malfoy commanded.  They followed him out into the Entrance Hall and down a passage of stone stairs to the left of the large marble staircase leading upstairs.

"Conveniently located in the dungeons off the Entrance Hall, the Slytherin common room and dormitories are carefully hidden from foreign eyes," Malfoy recited with a yawn.

"Don't be stupid enough to give out our password or let anyone from other houses follow you to the common room.  Keep up," he called to Petula and Maud, who had stopped to stare at a portrait of a perplexed fat wizard who, while mixing various brightly coloured and fizzing potions, had just had his concoction explode in his face, and was standing with a faceful of soot.

Suddenly all the portraits in the hallway began to spin round and round, and their occupants began to screech in  fright and annoyance; the torches inverted themselves in their wall brackets and an unearthly shrieking laughter echoed through the corridor. "Firsties, firsties!" yelled the voice through its own cackling.

"Peeves!" Malfoy shouted angrily. "Stop that!"

"What's the magic word?" cried the voice, and a little man wearing a loud tuxedo and a bizarre top hat with bells strung round the brim appeared above their heads, floating near the ceiling.  A giant orange bowtie partly obscured his face, but there was a wide, malicious grin on the man's face.

"Peeves, the poltergeist," Malfoy grumbled to the first years. "Horrible nuisance, but Dumbledore can't seem to ever get rid of him." Raising his voice, he said, "Peeves, I'm Head Boy now, and I demand that you stop this foolishness!"

"Ooh, Head Boy, I'm ever so frightened," jeered Peeves, leering at Malfoy. "What are you going to do, take away house points?"

"I like him!" Bellatrix whispered to Severus, grinning.

Whistling shrilly, Peeves stood on his head in the middle of the narrow corridor, obstructing their passage.

"Cease this nonsense at once!" Malfoy ordered.

"Shaaaan't," howled Peeves, looking odd with his upside-down sneer.

Before Malfoy could answer, Severus felt an icy wind brush past him, and the Bloody Baron came up by Malfoy and spoke to Peeves in a quiet, hoarse voice.

"Go bother the Gryffindors, Peeves," he said lazily. 

Severus didn't expect Peeves to obey, but the poltergeist hurriedly doffed his top hat with a jingling of its bells and cried greasily, "Yes sir, your Bloodiness, I'm ever so sorry, Mr. Baron, I'll give those Gryffindor firsties upstairs a right scare on your behalf!"

With a noise like firecrackers he took off through the ceiling, and with a silent nod at Malfoy, the Bloody Baron glided away along the corridor.  Severus shivered.

Malfoy led them down a tortuous labyrinth of dank, dark halls, through which Severus was certain he would never be able to find his way by himself, finally stopping by a blank stone wall. "The password is _Lux lucida_," Malfoy said, and a hidden door in the stone wall slid back, allowing them to enter the common room, a long, low room with roughly carved stone walls and dim greenish lamps hanging from chains fixed to the damp ceiling.  There was a huge fireplace in which a fire blazed invitingly, warming the carved chairs and plush loveseats arranged around it.

"First years' dormitory is down that corridor, boys in the first door on the left, girls in the third door on the right," Malfoy said, pointing to a corridor to their left. 

The boys' dormitory was a circular room with five four-poster beds, adorned with dark green bed hangings.  Looking at the sumptuous four-posters, Severus was suddenly struck by how exhausted he was.  His fretting had sapped his strength, and the banquet had made him very full and sleepy.  He found his trunk at the foot of one bed and wearily undressed and crawled under the covers.  He was pleased to find that the Hogwarts house-elves had already put a warming pan between the sheets.

Rodolphus had the neighbouring bed.  Severus considered clarifying his earlier unfinished request to be let alone, but sleepiness prevailed.  _It can wait till tomorrow_, he thought.

"Thought you were going to write home tonight, Se-e-everus," Rodolphus mumbled through a giant yawn. "I was going to as well, but I..."

Rodolphus was so tired he fell asleep mid-sentence.  Severus did not notice; he was sound asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.


	3. War on Gryffindor

The first week at Hogwarts did not go very well for Severus, to say the least.

Narcissa Black had been right, the classes were quite hard.  They spent most of their time taking notes, but when they did try magic they had little success.

Yet it wasn't really the classes that troubled Severus.

Herbology wasn't bad, as he found the magical plants and fungi which the short, squat Professor Sprout showed them rather interesting; but History of Magic was little more than a glorified nap.  It seemed a waste of time to even attend the class taught by the nearly centennial Professor Binns, an extremely boring wizard with pallid skin, white hair, and a droning monotonous voice, as the Slytherin and Ravenclaw first years simply dozed quietly until the bell rang.

They had Charms with the Hufflepuffs.  Though all they did in Charms was take copious notes, Professor Flitwick, a tiny, squeaky-voiced, highly excitable wizard, made it seem remarkably enjoyable.  The first thing he did after the roll call was float all their hats to the rafters with a simple flick of his wand.  As they stared up at their hats, hovering near the ceiling like black conic balloons, Professor Flitwick squeaked happily, "Levitation Charms!  We'll be starting that in a few weeks.  Rudimentary skill for all wizards, you know—and rather fun at the same time."

Transfiguration was the hardest class by far.  McGonagall did seem to hold a grudge against Slytherin's nine-year House Cup dynasty, and appeared to be doing her utmost to prevent its happening again.  She took a point off Rodolphus for asking Severus for parchment when they were meant to be taking notes, but no one dared to contradict her.  She gave them matches to turn into needles.  No one had any luck on the first day, except Fulton Bulstrode; but when it turned out he had known about this task beforehand and had switched his match with a different needle when she wasn't looking, they lost another five house points—and gained an additional five feet of parchment due on their first essay.

After that class, in which Severus' match did nothing but accidentally catch flame and scorch his desk when he got frustrated and prodded it too hard, Potions was a breeze.  It was taught by Professor Marchbanks, head of Ravenclaw house, a sweet, merry little woman who was possibly the oldest living person on the planet, older than even Dumbledore.  She was going deaf, and shouted everything as if she thought everyone else was deaf as well; but apart from the yelling, it was an excellent class.  Potions incorporated everything Severus esteemed: logic, precision, careful focus, clear instructions with straightforward rules.  Somehow it was only when bound by restrictions that Severus discovered his most creative side.

Their first assignment was a simple boil-curing potion, and Severus finished before everyone else, even the Gryffindors, with whom they shared Potions class.  Professor Marchbanks, who was so ancient and jolly that it was impossible not to like her on first sight, astonished Severus by pulling her grey hair back from her neck and applying his potion to a boil behind her ear.  When it vanished without a trace, she happily awarded him five points.  Potions was delightful, really; Severus was disappointed he hadn't discovered it earlier.  There were probably loads of terrible things you could do to someone with a potion easier than with a curse.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was the class Severus had most been looking forward to ever since he had Blasted himself in the face with a stolen wand, and Professor Astaroth, a commanding, authoritarian wizard, seemed a good person to teach it to him.  Astaroth had earned national renown in his youth, defending his All-England Duelling Championship title for nineteen years, and later as a top Auror for the Ministry of Magic and close personal friend of the notorious Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, of whose frequently unlawful antics Septimus Snape often complained.

Professor Astaroth had a soft, high-pitched voice and possessed seven pairs of spectacles—not worn, as one might think, separately on each day of week, but several at once, and occasionally all seven at the same time, which alarmingly magnified his vision to telescopic ranges.

Overall, his unfortunate appearance was of a gravely myopic scarecrow.  His wrinkled face fell naturally into a menacing scowl, and bore the faded scars of many decades of duels and Dark-wizard hunting.  Severus would hate to be a Dark wizard and have to face this ghastly countenance.

"This is likely the most important class you will ever take at school," Astaroth began very quietly, his violet gaze behind three layers of lenses sweeping the class, who sat silent and partly paralyzed by fear. "No doubt you have read and heard much about the Dark wizard currently at large, who calls himself Lord Voldemort."

Most of the pureblood students winced at the sound of the forbidden name, and Professor Astaroth gave a grim smile. "Perhaps a few of you have already been affected by this madman's crafty actions.  He's a sly creature, cunning and skillful with his wand... There are a lot of good witches and wizards nowadays who are being kidnapped, brainwashed, or killed.  I don't want you lot to be among them.  Quills out!  Take this down!" With a swish of his wand, the blackboards filled with notes and diagrams in tightly packed script.

"These are all the fundamentals of Defence Against the Dark Arts," he declared over the scratching of their quills. "I suppose in November or so we shall begin studying a few Dark creatures… and of course, we won't be starting curses or defensive spells until at least January."

Severus and Bellatrix exchanged aghast looks.  Sirius Black raised his hand, but Professor Astaroth ignored it. "Now, what we have here are the key-"

"Professor Astaroth?" Black spoke up.

Astaroth wheeled swiftly.

"_Never_ interrupt me when I am speaking!  That will be two points from Gryffindor."

He spun back round and started pointing at the board again, but Potter glanced at Black and said loudly, "But Professor Astaroth, Black's got a question."

"So do I," Astaroth said coldly, turning back to face them. "How would you both like to spend the rest of the class outside in the hall?  No?  Then be quiet."

Potter and Black looked at each other, and Black lowered his hand, looking mutinous.  Astaroth dropped another pair of spectacles over the three already perched on his nose. "It seems," he said softly, his violet eyes glittering, "that some of you have issues with discipline and respect.  I trust the rest of you will not pose such problems?"

He looked at the Slytherins, who shook their heads while suppressing grins.

Tentatively Bellatrix raised her hand.  This time Professor Astaroth's thin lips peeled back, revealing crooked yellowed teeth.  Severus nearly screamed before he realized this was Astaroth's smile. "Yes, Miss Black?" Astaroth said, in as close to an amiable tone as he could muster.

"Why do we have to wait so long to start learning curses?" Bellatrix asked.  Severus saw Sirius Black turn to Remus Lupin and mutter, "That was my question too.  Why isn't _she_ being yelled at?"

"Another point from Gryffindor," Astaroth said without looking at the dismayed Black. "Miss Black, in this class theory always comes first.  All the great Aurors will tell you that.  One can never peform a spell properly until one knows the magical theory behind it.  For instance, the Furnunculus Curse.  I wouldn't expect anyone here to know what that does, so I'll- oh." His smile widened. "Well, well, well."

Severus' hand had shot up, as had Lily Evans', but Astaroth ignored her. "Yes, Snape."

"Furnunculus causes the victim to break out in boils," Severus said.

"Very good, Snape.  A point to Slytherin.  Furnunculus, of course, is related to the term 'furuncle' meaning boil or pustule..."

And it was not the homework loads that bothered him, either, even though every teacher seemed determined to heap as much work on the first years as humanly possible (and in the case of Professor McGonagall, more than was humanly possible).  Rodolphus floundered and quickly fell behind but Severus was not so easily put off; he worked harder than anyone and was the only Slytherin to get consistent perfect marks in most of his classes.  In Transfiguration, however, nothing he did was ever good enough for McGonagall, no matter how many hours he spent in the library doing research.  He worked so much that after one long letter to his parents on the second day of school, he barely had time between classes to dash off three inches of news, though Rosella wrote him faithfully, long, rambling letters about something funny a house-elf had done with her slippers, or a new book she was reading.  He found these letters guilt-inducing and depressing, and most of them ended up in the bottom of his trunk—he couldn't bring himself to throw them out entirely.

Nor was it getting to class that exasperated Severus—though it was sometimes frustrating.  The staircases often switched direction, getting tired of leading upstairs and going downstairs on Wednesdays, and the suits of armour liked to walk around the hallways, and some doors wouldn't open unless you told them a joke about doors or hinges or opening.  But it was no different than the ever-changing floor plan of Severus' own house.

And Peeves the poltergeist enjoyed trapping students in broom cupboards and leaving them to be discovered hours later, dumping ink on people's heads, snatching book bags and scattering the contents throughout the school, and generally being a horrible nuisance.  Fortunately, the Bloody Baron, who besides Dumbledore was the only person (living or dead) who could give Peeves orders, would never ignore a Slytherin's plea for deliverance from the poltergeist's bullying.

But from the embittered old caretaker, Argus Filch, who hated everything and everyone with a passion, there was no relief.  The mere presence of students seemed to irritate him.  The only thing he loved better than doling out detentions was his kitten, Mrs. Norris, a tiny, straggly grey creature with large, lamplike eyes who bit people who tried to pet her.  All the students stayed as far away from Filch and Mrs. Norris as possible at all times, but this was rendered difficult as he seemed to know every secret passage in the castle, and could dash between any two rooms in less than ten seconds.

Certainly it was not the course material that vexed Severus, nor even the foibles of Hogwarts.  It was his Gryffindor classmates—especially Potter.  He had disliked Potter the moment he'd set eyes on him, and now he found that the feeling was mutual.

When he and Rodolphus entered the Potions classroom on the first day, they had chosen the desk at the very front, just ahead of Potter and Black.  But when Severus went to sit down, he fell to the floor.  As he jumped up, face flaming, touching his bruised backside, he looked back at his chair in time to see Potter's foot retreating under his desk from where it had been hooked round Severus' chair leg.  The other Gryffindors tittered.  Professor Marchbanks had entered then and Severus had been able to do nothing but glower at the innocently smiling Potter as he yanked back his chair and sat down heavily.

At the beginning of the next Potions class later that week, Black tried the same trick; but Severus was not stupid enough to fall for it twice.  He held onto his chair tightly and wrenched it forward, causing Black to slide forward off his chair.  It was the Slytherins' turn to snigger as Black crawled back onto his seat, blushing madly.

Severus went round feeling quite pleased with himself for the rest of the day.  But later, as he, Rodolphus, and Maud Wilkes were walking to Herbology, they passed the Gryffindors lined up outside the Transfiguration classroom.  Severus only had time to see Potter bring out his wand and whisper something before he felt his legs snap together and he fell to the floor.  Potter's friends burst out laughing.

"How do you like my Leg-Locker Curse, Snape?" Potter said, grinning.  Severus was too humiliated and furious to even be astonished at how well the curse had been executed.

"Oh, that was a _scream_, Potter," snapped Maud Wilkes, "I'm sure you must have spent the whole day in the library looking that one up."

"What's the countercurse?" Severus hissed at Rodolphus as he struggled to stand on his rigid legs, which felt like they were bound together with tight ropes.

Rodolphus shrugged and looked to Maud desperately.  Yet it was Lily Evans who stepped out of the line and intoned, "_Finito Incantato_."

Severus' legs returned to normal, but he could not feel gratitude towards this Mudblood who was showing him up.

"I could have done that," he snarled at Evans.

She turned red and frowned. "Then why didn't you?" she said coldly.

"He- he didn't feel like it," Rodolphus said with a scowl, pulling on Severus' arm. "Come on, we'll be late."

Severus stood up and drew his wand quickly. "_Pescalesco_!" he said, pointing at Potter.  Potter immediately gave a yelp and began hopping on one foot.  Severus grabbed Maud and Rodolphus and they ran all the way to the greenhouses.

"What was that?" gasped Maud when they stopped.

"A Hotfoot Hex," panted Severus, clutching his ribs, which ached from the physical exertion. "Until McGonagall sorts him out, he'll feel like he's walking on hot coals."

Maud screamed with laughter. "Serves him right for trying to attack a Slytherin!"

The Head of Gryffindor _did_ sort everything out, and rather more thoroughly than Severus liked.  She took two points from Slytherin and four from her own house for using magic in the corridor, then gave both Severus and Potter detention for fighting.  Though he protested the injustice of being punished for self-defence, Severus was forced to help Madam Pince, the librarian, categorize and shelve seventy crates of new books in the school library without using magic, while Potter got off with only alphabetizing Professor Marchbanks' cupboards of potions ingredients.

But the first exchange of curses was like a spark to a keg of dynamite, and a full-scale feud between Severus and Potter began.  They hexed each other in the halls whenever they had a chance, and when they got caught, which was often, each always blamed the other, and usually it was Severus who was ultimately punished.  Only Astaroth willingly overlooked his Slytherins' participation in fights.

Severus quickly discovered that Slytherins were not very well appreciated outside their own circles, even by the allegedly impartial teachers.  The Slytherins as a house, it transpired, had a reputation for being lying, underhanded, manipulative troublemakers, and were regularly ganged up on by the other three houses. 

Teachers almost always believed Potter over Severus, to the end that Potter was able to worm out of several well-deserved detentions and pin them on Severus.  Severus' fury escalated to new heights.

"I don't mind being punished for bad things I've done," he told Rodolphus as they furiously scrubbed the windowpaned wall of greenhouse 2 after a very literal mud-slinging fight with Potter, who claimed Severus and Rodolphus had started it. "I can deal with those because I know I've brought it on myself.  But getting punished for things _he's _doing?  That's simply unacceptable."

He and Rodolphus schemed all the more fervently to get Potter and Black expelled, or at the very least in detention where they belonged.

Most of the time their magical skirmishes had little effect, because of their lack of magical skill.  Maud had been right, Potter had probably spent the whole day practicing the Leg-Locker Curse in order to perform it so well.  Although Severus knew a number of excellent curses, he soon realized that hexing someone was much a harder feat than simply waving a wand and pronouncing the incantation.  Of course, with his firm basis in magical theory from years spent delving into books, knowledge-wise he was further ahead than Potter, but not by a lot.  He was coming to understand that the hexes he had learned by heart were simply far too complex for a first year with no experience with a wand.

His years of reading up on curses in his father's books gave him a small headstart, but when his repertoire was exhausted, he and Rodolphus spent hours that should have been devoted to homework in the library, poring over how-to guides of hexes and spells.  Potter and his friends, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew, were often to be found there as well, but under the vigilant eye of Madam Pince, neither group could attack the other within her territory.  Watever spells they learned in the library had to be saved for later encounters.

Although Severus and Potter tried to jinx each other every time they met in the halls, more often than not both walked away completely intact.  For all their ferocity, the injuries that necessitated a visit to Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse (for instance the time Potter's Tickling Charm accidentally gave Severus a deep leg wound that would not stop bleeding, or when Severus' attempt at a Trip Jinx knocked Potter down two flights of stairs), were fairly rare.

So they dragged the battle into the classroom.  There began a tremendous struggle between Severus and Potter to achieve better marks than the other, often resulting in sabotaged essays and assignments. 

On one occasion Severus wrote seven feet of parchment on the subject of vampires, only to have it erased as it touched Professor Astaroth's hand by a Nullifying Charm that had secretly bewitched his quill.  Fortunately, Astaroth saw through the trick and was appropriately enraged.  He took ten points from Gryffindor and gave Potter a detention.

A week later, Severus and Rodolphus purloined Black's Potions textbook, rubbed out and rewrote an entire page, and stealthily returned it, causing Potter and Black to drop armadillo bile in their potion instead of daisy roots and melt Black's cauldron.  Severus wrote Professor Marchbanks a six-foot-long essay on decorum and social responsibility for that prank, but it was certainly worth it to have seen the look of horror on his enemies' faces when their potion bubbled onto the floor and ate through their shoes.

-----------------------------------------------------

As time went on and classes progressed from hours of note-taking to trying real charms and spells, Severus learned more about magic and, equally, about himself.

His worst class was Transfiguration, in which McGonagall coolly informed him he never paid enough attention and took away points from Slytherin.  It was very frustrating; though McGonagall had quite good reason for continually taking points from Slytherin, Severus had a paranoia that she hated him in particular, and it made him uncertain and tense in her classroom.  Professor Marchbanks, on the other hand, kept delightedly bestowing points on Slytherin for Severus' perfect potions, and told him he had a real gift for the subject.

Severus was alarmed when he began to receive consistent failing marks in History of Magic, but was slightly mollified to find that just about everyone else was gettting the same grades, since they all slept through Professor Binns' monotonous droning. 

Professor Astaroth somehow managed to make Defence Against the Dark Arts, easily the most remarkable of all subjects, incredibly boring.  He persisted with the note-taking, though Severus was eager to show his Head of House the fruits of his private study.  Lucius Malfoy had not been joking when he'd said that Astaroth wouldn't let them start curses in class for a long time; the emphasis in Astaroth's method of teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts was always on theory and magical procedure.  And the students had all noticed, with mild curiosity, that he never stowed his wand in his pockets or his desk, or indeed let it stray far; it was always very close at hand, perhaps as if he was fearful of being attacked and not being able to get his wand out in time.  In any case, it was highly unbecoming of a retired Ministry Auror like Astaroth.

His fellow Slytherins were approximately his intellectual equals.  Maud Wilkes turned out to not be quite as clever as she claimed, though she was quite good at Herbology.  Petula Swipe was uniformly atrocious at everything, as she kept getting flustered and saying the wrong thing, causing things to explode or change into kumquats.  On the infrequent occasions that she did manage to do something right, she got so surprised that she ended up with a pile of kumquats anyway.  Evan Rosier, Fulton Bulstrode, and Alexis Avery were consistently mediocre, blundering through their classes with some tutoring from Severus.

His enemies in Gryffindor also varied in their stages of academic progress.  Lupin answered almost as many questions in Defence Against the Dark Arts as Severus, but he was terrible at Potions, and damaged his fair share of cauldrons even without sabotage.  Pettigrew was simply too nervous to be good at anything.  He was very forgetful, unable to remember the simplest charms, and he claimed that the mere sight of Professor Astaroth frightened him as an excuse for his abysmal performance in Defence Against the Dark Arts.  Potter and Black were usually too busy playing tricks on Severus or teasing their other classmates to pay much attention to any lessons, but on average Potter and Severus were about equal, since Potter's Defence Against the Dark Arts mark was just as precarious as Severus' Transfiguration one.

Lily Evans, Severus heard with some consternation, quite excelled in Charms.  Leonora Winthrop from Ravenclaw told Bellatrix that Lily was the first and only one to Levitate her feather the first time they tried it.  During the same assignment, Severus' feather simply sat on the table doing absolutely nothing, and Petula Swipe somehow Vanished hers by mistake, leaving Professor Flitwick scratching his head.  Rodolphus ended up snapping his feather in half in a pretend swordfight with Alexis Avery.  (Bellatrix, predictably, lit hers on fire.)

The Slytherin first years quickly discovered that Severus excelled in most subjects and tried as often as possible to study in a large group with him, so as to have someone to ask for help.

"You study too much," Bellatrix said in annoyance to the other first years in the common room as they were doing their homework and she was playing with Avery's Remembrall.

"You don't study _enough_," Petula said worriedly. "I've heard that if you don't pass your final exams, you can't go on to second year."

Petula wasn't actually studying either.  She was snipping away at her long golden tresses, which in a few short days had grown from just past her shoulders to her waist.

"I'll manage," said Bellatrix, tossing the Remembrall casually up into the air and catching it.

"Don't break that," warned Avery, a boy whose hard grey eyes, pointed nose and spiky dark blond hair gave him a vaguely Scandinavian look.

"Why not?  Your father will just buy you a new one," Fulton Bulstrode said.  He was a chubby boy with very thick glasses and mud-coloured hair that lay flat on his egg-shaped head. "Can't be very handy though, if it only tells you you've forgotten something and doesn't say what."

"Well even if I've forgotten things, my father can just replace them, right?" Avery sneered.

"You know what I'd like to have?" Evan Rosier piped up. "A Sneakoscope."

"That's no good," Maud Wilkes said from behind _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_. "Snape and Lestrange are always up to something, we'd go deaf from the whistling.  But for Dark detectors, the Foe Glass is the way to go.  It tells you when your enemies are coming."

"You don't _have_ any enemies," Severus objected.

Maud shrugged. "Not yet—but I'm sure that eventually, I will have enemies, and then the Foe Glass will be invaluable, won't it?  There's not better way to survive than to keep all foes in sight." She was quoting from the advertisement. "But Dad says I'm not to waste money on rubbish, and anyways I'd have to go all the way back to Diagon Alley to buy one."

"There're shops in Hogsmeade that might sell them," said Rosier.

"I heard that first years aren't allowed to go to Hogsmeade yet," remarked Petula. "Only third years and up can visit Hogsmeade."

"I wish there was somewhere you could buy an Invisibility Cloak," said Bellatrix, lobbing the Remembrall dangerously close to the ceiling and catching it. "But they're quite rare, on account of the animal they're made from being invisible and rather difficult to catch, as a result."

"My father has one," said Rodolphus. "Maud, can you look up dittany?  It's been in my family for six or seven generations."

"What has, dittany?" asked Bulstrode.

"No, the Invisibility Cloak!  Dad never uses it anymore, though."

"Can you ask him if I can have it?" Bellatrix asked.

"Maybe when he's your father-in-law," Severus teased.

Bellatrix stared him down coldly.  He nervously cleared his throat and muttered, "Sorry."

"I wish I had a racing broom," Rodolphus remarked, oblivious to their exchange.

"I've heard first years aren't permitted to have brooms," said Petula.

"Yeah, when the flying lessons start, everyone has to be riding a _school broom_," Bellatrix said scornfully. "Comet 180's, Tinderblasts!  Disgraceful, really.  But Narcissa said Lucius Malfoy's got a Nimbus 1001, the newest Nimbus model."

"That's what I'd get," said Avery approvingly. "Wouldn't you, Snape?"

Severus stared hard at his essay on Fanged Geraniums and did not answer.  Rodolphus said to Avery, "Severus hasn't flown on a broom."

"What, never?" Avery asked, eyes wide. "Why not?"

"_Fragile ribs_," Bellatrix said in her baby voice, mimicking Severus.  He looked up sharply at her and she stopped smiling. "Sorry."

"My parents didn't like the idea of me going near a broomstick," Severus said flatly to Avery.

"What was the broom shed built for, then?" murmured Rodolphus. 

Severus kicked him under the table.  Rodolphus knew perfectly well that the Snapes had built the broom shed expecting their son to become an athletic Quidditch-star flying ace, but that they had changed their minds about getting him a broomstick after the Blasting Charm incident.  It had stood bare and unused since its construction.  But it was hard to distinguish between when Rodolphus was being mean, and when he was merely being stupid.

"Overprotective parents, eh?" asked Avery sympathetically, not having heard Rodolphus. "Well, they can't stop you here.  Flying lessons start this Wednesday."

"Great," Severus said without enthusiasm. 

He wouldn't admit it, but he was particularly worried about the flying lessons.  Not only did he have a fear of heights, but he'd also never been within ten feet of a broom in his life, and since he was rubbish at every land-based sport he had ever attempted, he was quite certain that flying would conform to the pattern.

Rodolphus started to explain in gruesome detail the various injuries his older brother Rabastan had sustained in his three years as a Slytherin house team Beater, beginning with a broken wrist from a twenty-foot fall and continuing with an alleged disappearance and re-materialization in Alaska six weeks later, minus his big toe.  As Petula's face grew paler and paler, Rosier and Avery's whoops louder, and the stories increasingly inaccurate, Severus sighed.  He'd heard each of these outrageous tales at least a hundred times.  So had Bellatrix, for that matter, but she never failed to paste a rapt look on her face whenever Rodolphus opened his mouth.  (Of course her awe was all an act; she liked to indulge Rodolphus' whims, for reasons Severus had never fully worked out.)

Rodolphus was very exhausting to be around.  They had quickly found that he had about as much aptitude for learning as for pedalling a bicycle with his ears; which is to say, none.  He was a whiz at causing trouble, but when it came to academics, he was no more erudite than a turnip.  He had a flair for writing, and could write essays that were stylistically impeccable.  The problem was that he had no idea what he was writing about, and often resorted to making it up entirely.  But he was strangely determined to succeed.  Despite Severus' unconcealed annoyance, he persisted in accompanying him to the library, though he asked so many questions Severus was rarely able to accomplish anything himself.

Severus had tried several times since the Sorting Ceremony to tactfully shake off Rodolphus, but the other boy blithely refused to take the hint.  Severus did not even have the courage to broach the subject with Bellatrix.  He wondered if he was destined to live the rest of his life with the pair of them dogging his steps.

Bellatrix was faring much better in class than Rodolphus, though she had absolutely no passion for scholarship.  She never appeared to do any homework or pay attention at all, but somehow she absorbed everything effortlessly, and occasionally proved her supreme intellect.  When McGonagall coldly stated that she would keep them at their first assignment of tranfiguring a match into a needle until someone succeeded (without cheating), Bellatrix almost immediately brought McGonagall a perfect needle.

"How'd you do that, Belle?" Severus whispered while McGonagall inspected the needle suspiciously.

Bellatrix shrugged. "_Muto acus_," she said, almost lazily, and Severus' matchstick suddenly went silvery and pointed.

"It's not hard, it's just dull.  I could have let her go on trying to make us do this assignment for months, but I suppose I'd rather she moved on." Severus and Rodolphus exchanged pained looks.

Bellatrix was also developing a wild streak that Severus had until now only glimpsed, and those glimpses had been thankfully rare.  Surrounded by people with whom she could disagree freely, her temper flared often, causing minor bonfires.  It was not uncommon, when she was having an argument with someone, for their eyebrows to get singed off.  Nowadays, all one had to do to get a fire going in the common room was to rile Bellatrix with a casual comment on the Mudblood infestation at Hogwarts, and a giant blaze would suddenly explode in the fireplace.  But Madam Pomfrey maintained that it was a childhood affliction, and assured the victims of scorchings that Bellatrix would lose her ability long before she even entered adolescence, when quick tempers and raging hormones would become a terrifying combination.

Rodolphus, by contrast, was getting tamer and tamer in his dogged pursuit of good marks.  No matter how persuadingly Bellatrix expressed her arguments for sabotaging their classmates from other houses, he claimed to prefer to toil through his homework and refused to join in; the obvious exception being, of course, the disruption of Potter, Black, Pettigrew, and Lupin.


	4. Snivellus

The dreaded Wednesday arrived. In the afternoon the Slytherins went out to the lawns where two neat rows of broomsticks were laid out on the grass. Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, a short young witch with yellow eyes like a hawk's, was already there, as were the Gryffindors, who were each standing by a broomstick in one of the rows. The Slytherins warily took their places across from the Gryffindors, and Madam Hooch began, "This class will teach you the rudimentary skills of flying. We're running out of daylight, so let's start right away. Stick your right hand over your broom and say, UP!"

"UP!" everyone shouted. Only a few broomsticks leaped into their students' hands. Rodolphus and Bellatrix were exchanging triumphant glances, and Potter looked very pleased as he clutched his broom, but Pettigrew's was twitching on the ground and Severus' hadn't moved at all.

"Say it with conviction!" cried Madam Hooch.

Severus saw at once that that was his problem. He was terrified of being airborne—undoubtedly that much was conveyed by his shaking voice. However, seeing the smug look on Potter's face, Severus gritted his teeth and repeated more firmly, "UP!"

This time the broomstick flew up into his hand immediately, nearly knocking him over.

"Look at that, Peter, even Snape's done it," Lupin said to Pettigrew. "Try again."

"UP!" bellowed Pettigrew, and his broomstick leaped up so fast it broke his finger. "Yeow!" Pettigrew clutched his right hand in pain.

"Perhaps not _so_ much conviction next time, Mr. Pettigrew," Madam Hooch said dryly. "Mr. Black, would you be kind enough to accompany Mr. Pettigrew to the infirmary?"

Severus was having a hard time trying not to laugh as Black led Pettigrew across the lawn toward the castle. Potter's face turned scarlet at the sight of the smirk on his face.

"Right then," called Madam Hooch, "mount your broom and kick off on the whistle!"

She tooted on her silver whistle and Severus, feeling somewhat apprehensive, swung one leg over his broomstick and kicked off from the ground—or at least tried to. His broomstick seemed to be trying to both rise into the air with the others and stay near the earth. It almost appeared to be tethered to the ground.

Severus quickly looked up at Potter, whose lips stopped moving as he smiled innocently back. Instantly Severus' broomstick floated skyward, and he glowered at Potter.

"You see, Sev, _c'est facile, non_?" said Rodolphus, effortlessly sidling up to him. ('It's easy, isn't it?')

"What?" Severus looked down to find himself twenty feet off the ground. Shocked, he emitted a whimper and clutched the handle of his broomstick tighter. In his haste to overcome his fear of looking stupid, he'd absolutely forgotten his fear of heights.

"There was no need to worry," Rodolphus said brightly.

"I wasn't worried!"

"Sev, you've been shaking continually for the past four days," Rodolphus said. "Still are, in fact. And look how white your knuckles are."

Madam Hooch made them practice flying back and forth and making sharp turns. Petula kept panicking and half-falling off her broomstick. When they were practicing landing, she descended too quickly and squashed herself into the ground.

"Let me guess, it's your first time on a broom as well?" Severus said dryly as he dismounted and helped her up.

"Yes," gasped Petula, struggling to her feet. "My parents… weren't fans of flying or Quidditch or anything. They wouldn't let me near a broomstick."

"With good reason!" called Potter, swooping through the air above them and laughing. "You're a klutz, Swipe!"

"Shut up, Potter!" Bellatrix snapped, darting nimbly after him. She was, Severus observed sadly, a quite brilliant flier, as she'd been using her sisters' brooms for years. Potter yelped as the twigs on the end of his broomstick kindled into flame, and put it out quickly with a series of swoops and dives.

"You really must stop doing that, Bella," Petula said plaintively as she mounted her broom again and made a wobbly takeoff. "I thought you were taking medication for your anger problem."

Bellatrix shrugged and did a loop-de-loop. "It's much more fun to let my temper go."

"Will it still be fun when you get expelled for burning down the school?" asked Severus, slowly rising into the air on his broomstick.

* * *

Severus considered it a miracle that he survived the flying lessons, and it took great effort not to shudder whenever he thought of them. Fortunately, the next day they had to brew a Depressing Draught in Potions, the complexity of which delighted and reassured Severus.

Professor Marchbanks was not so deaf as to miss the palpable hostility between her first years, and was constantly trying to resolve their differences. This was the direct opposite of Defence Against the Dark Arts, in which Professor Astaroth took a cruel pleasure in pitting them against each other. But Professor Marchbanks hoped to encourage inter-house cooperation by putting them in Gryffindor-Slytherin pairs.

Today she decided that Severus should work with Black. They eyed each other with open loathing over the bubbling cauldron as they worked.

"You've chopped the daisy roots too unevenly," Severus accused. "You're not a bloody lumberjack, you have to be delicate."

"All right, you do it if you're so clever!" Black snarled.

"Fine! You put in the toad horns then," said Severus coldly, grabbing the knife and getting to work on the daisy roots. "Mind that you only put in one and a third horns, and get them in the exact centre of the potion."

"I know, I know," Black grumbled.

"Work together as a team!" cried Professor Marchbanks. "Oh, please don't fight!" She hurried past them to settle the squabbling of Bellatrix and Lupin at the other end of the dungeon.

"Finished with the daisy roots?" Black demanded. "We haven't got much time left."

"Yes, I'm done," Severus said shortly, scraping them into the cauldron. "Have you stirred twice counterclockwise?"

"Yes! Have you got the Glumbumble fluid ready? It's in that black bottle. And make sure it hasn't turned sour or anything. You'd better check the colour. It ought to be purple."

"I _know_," Severus said testily, uncorking the bottle and peering in.

He drew his face back quickly, gagging. "Blecch!" The stench could be best described as someone searing chocolate and onions together in a saucepan, over a fire of burning hair. As he gagged, a wisp of purplish smoke floated into his face. Setting down the bottle, he dissolved into a furious coughing fit while Black watched in great amusement.

"Something wrong, Snape?" he enquired with a nasty grin.

Then, to Severus' horror, he felt his eyes watering. He started to say, "What's happening to me?" but the words were overtaken by a strange choking sensation that rose slowly up his throat and then burst out very suddenly as a sob. Out of nowhere came a sense of misery, of desolation, like he was reliving all the saddest moments of his life—and he began to cry.

"Oh no," he choked out through his own sudden and uncontrollable sobbing, tears streaming down his face. Then it occurred to him to check the label on the little black bottle.

'Caution: Fumes of the Glumbumble fluid contained herein may cause extreme melancholy and fits of tears and sobbing,' the label warned.

"The fumes- the fumes from the Glumbumble fluid!" He glowered at Black, whose malicious grin was blurred by tears. "_You tricked me_!"

"Sev?" Rodolphus asked, coming over to Severus with a look of bewilderment. "Sev, what's going on?" Severus tried to hide his tear-streaked face, but Rodolphus saw him and his perplexity was replaced by shock and fright. "Oh my God, you're crying! Stop, stop!"

"Yes, _please_ stop blubbing, Snape!" Black said loudly, attracting the attention of the rest of the class.

"What are you playing at, Sev?" Bellatrix demanded, looking sickened.

"Severus, why are you crying?" Petula asked as she hurried towards him with a sympathetic face and a handkerchief.

"Stop trying to comfort me!" Severus tried to say, but another convulsion overtook him and he was unable to get out the words. It repelled him to see all these staring faces, some with spiteful grins, some positively revolting in their sympathy. He found the pity in Lily Evans' eyes nauseating. "I'm going to be sick," he gasped, and Rodolphus and Petula quickly backed away.

"Snape?" Professor Marchbanks hurried over. Her face fell when she saw her best student, doubled over and sobbing, cheeks slick with tears and his arms wrapped round his shaking, sore ribs. "Great galloping Gorgons, _what _is going on?"

"Snape here simply began _bawling_ quite suddenly, Professor," Black said brightly, "I really have no idea why."

Severus managed to spit out vengefully, "You t-tricked- fumes- f-f-fluid-" before he was hit with a spasm of shuddering sobs that shook his ribcage painfully. "Black!" he shrieked, then grabbed Petula's handkerchief and buried his face in it.

"Now don't get worked up, Snape, it's all right," Professor Marchbanks said kindly, reaching out to touch his shoulder, but he pushed her hand away and lurched backwards.

"I'm n-not c-c-crying!" he shouted. The dungeon was completely still. Everyone was staring at him. A few cauldrons were boiling over without anyone noticing. "It w-w-was Black! He t-tricked me- it's the f-f-f-fumes from the Glu- the Glum- Glum-" Severus couldn't even force out the words 'Glumbumble fluid,' he was so inexplicably depressed.

"Black, is Snape telling the truth?" Professor Marchbanks demanded.

"Of course Black did no such thing," Potter put in smoothly. "Snape's just trying to get him in trouble, as usual. He's off his rocker, Professor."

"I'm not!" Severus yelled, and was alarmed by the shrill whine in his voice.

"Stop snivelling, Severus," Black hissed.

His eyes lit up. "Snivellus!"

"Yeah, Snivellus!" cried Potter, eyes sparkling with malice behind his round glasses.

All the Gryffindors began to laugh. The Slytherins looked at once outraged and horrified.

"Stop that at once!" ordered Professor Marchbanks. She pointed at Rodolphus. "Take Snape to the infirmary!"

Rodolphus desperately threw Severus' arm over his shoulders and led him away, still racked with sobs.


	5. Malfoy's Plot

Five hours later, the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, a plump, matronly witch, reluctantly consented to releasing Severus to the care of Rodolphus and Petula.

"I'll let you go, but you must promise you won't get upset again," the nurse warned after bandaging his abdomen tightly. "That episode shook up your ribs terribly."

"Are you quite certain you're all right?" Petula asked anxiously as they took him from the infirmary.

"Not going to start blubbing again, are you?" Rodolphus teased.

"Shut up," Severus grumbled, shaking off Petula's solicitous hand, then clutched his chest as he felt a little stab of pain from the movement. "You know perfectly well I wasn't crying, you dunderhead—Rodolphus, not you," he amended when Petula looked scandalized. "Cripes, it's only a few weeks into the year and already I'm the bloody laughingstock of the entire school. I'll never live this down!"

"There's no shame in needing a bit of a cry now and then," Petula said soothingly.

"I wasn't crying! Black conned me into peering into the bottle of Glumbumble fluid and the fumes made my eyes water. I'll get them expelled, if it's the last thing I do!" he burst out furiously. "I hate them, Black and Potter!"

"_Et quand on parle du loup_…" Rodolphus muttered, stopping in his tracks.

"What?" said Petula.

"He said, speak of the devil," Severus whispered, halting and staring straight ahead.

Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew were huddled by a statue of Gregory the Smarmy, a wizard depicted half-bowing with his hand outstretched and an ingratiating smirk on his face. They were so absorbed in their mysterious task that they did not notice the three Slytherins standing down the corridor.

"Come on, let's go another way," said Petula, tugging Rodolphus' sleeve.

"No, this way is faster," Severus said, eyeing the Gryffindors and fingering his wand. He was very keen to get his revenge on them for humiliating him.

"You don't know that, I've heard that there's loads of secret passageways running all over the castle. And we'll lose house points if you fight again," Petula pleaded.

"Some things are more important than house points," Rodolphus said stubbornly.

Petula sighed in exasperation.

"Fine, be idiots. Lose more points and get Severus sent straight back to the infirmary. They outnumber you two to one, in case you hadn't noticed."

"We can count," sneered Rodolphus. "Anyway it's really only three to two. Pettigrew's no threat, he'll be having enough trouble keeping from cursing off his own nose."

"See you in the common room," Petula said, and stalked away.

The sound of her footsteps finally caught the Gryffindors' attention. They looked round guiltily, while moving to hide Gregory the Smarmy from their view. Identical malicious grins leaped to Potter's and Black's faces.

"Snivellus!" said Black. "Why, you look positively _dreadful_. Feeling teary again? Do you need a hankie?"

"Shut your gob, Black," Severus snapped.

"Or what, Snivellus, you'll bawl all over us?" jeered Potter. "Are you going to flood the corridor with your tears?"

"Deafen us with sobs, Snivellus?" Black added viciously.

"Yeah, Snivellus!" Pettigrew piped up, eager to join in.

Possibly because he was the smallest, Severus and Rodolphus moved towards him first; but they had barely taken a step before Pettigrew's friends drew their wands and jumped in front of him.

"Give it up, you know you're all useless in Defence Against the Dark Arts," Rodolphus said. "Severus is the only one here who knows anything about hexes."

"Reading about them and actually performing them are completely different things," replied Lupin, narrowing his eyes at Severus.

"Yeah, and you've not quite mastered Defence Against the Dark Arts yet, have you Lestrange?" Black said with a smirk. "Three out of ten on your last paper, if I recall correctly?"

"Tough talk from someone who only got four out of ten," Rodolphus snarled, his face red.

The Gryffindors and Slytherins faced off, neither side daring to make the first move. Rodolphus twitched. Instantly Potter cried, "_Engorgio_!" and pointed at Severus' head; Severus ducked and the spell, which had been badly aimed in the first place, only grazed his earlobe, but that was enough to make the ear swell up three times the normal size.

Rodolphus tried a Curse of the Bogies but was only able to make Lupin's nose start to bleed. His blood stained the front of his robes and dripped onto the floor, but Lupin hardly seemed to notice as he threw back a Furnunculus Hex that gave Rodolphus a large pimple, while Pettigrew stood by whimpering, paralyzed with terror.

Meanwhile, Severus had managed to hit Potter with a Leg-Locker Curse and Black with a Tarantallegra, but from the floor Potter tried to shoot Severus with a Reductor Curse. His lack of skill diminished the effect of the spell, merely bruising Severus' cheek instead of knocking him off his feet. Then a Hufflepuff prefect was running down the corridor.

"_OI_! Oi, stop that, stop that—_Expelliarmus_!"

All their wands flew from their hands and the prefect caught them. "What is going on here?" he fumed, glaring at them.

"They started it, Amos," Potter said quickly.

"Yeah Diggory, we were defending ourselves," Lupin said.

"_No_ magic in the halls!" shouted Diggory. "_Finite Incantatem_!"

Black's legs stopped doing the St. Vitus' Dance, Potter was able to stand, Rodolphus' pimple burst, Lupin's nose stopped bleeding, and Severus' ear shrank. Diggory glanced at Pettigrew, apparently waiting for something, then said, "Oh sorry, thought you'd been Petrified." Pettigrew coloured slightly.

Diggory threw down their wands in disgust. "This will mean five points from each of you!"

"Potter's the one who started it all!" Severus complained.

Diggory cast him a cold look. "Slytherin, eh? Wouldn't expect anything less from _you_—but you boys," he said, frowning at the Gryffindors, "I'm disappointed. I'll be speaking to your Heads of House about this. This'll set McGonagall and Astaroth at each others' throats again—I hope you're all happy, you dolts. Gryffindors, let's get out of here. March!" he commanded as they started to grumble

They grabbed their wands and left. Potter scowled at Severus as Diggory pushed them all up a staircase.

When they had gone, Rodolphus leaned against the statue of Gregory and heaved a sigh. "We had them! Diggory came to their rescue just in time. The other houses just can't let Slytherin ever win. But you really made me proud just now, Sev, taking on both Potter and Black! Bella will be-"

"Shh!" Severus hissed. He had perceived the strains of a familiar voice coming towards them from down the corridor. With a sinking feeling he recognized Lucius Malfoy's smooth, lazy tones.

"It's Malfoy!" he whispered. "He's coming this way, and Lupin's blood is all over the floor! We've got to get out of here!"

"No time! Quick, hide!" Rodolphus yanked him behind the statue of Gregory.

"As for the eleventh use of dragon's blood," Lucius Malfoy was saying at an almost stagy volume. He rounded the corner and glanced furtively in both directions, then pulled his companion with him into the shadows across from Gregory the Smarmy. Severus glimpsed Silas Jugson. Jugson, a Slytherin Beater, was another Slytherin seventh year. He was very big and beefy, so no one ever said to his face that his surname fitted unfortunately well with his appearance: he had large ears that stuck out on either side of his head like jug handles.

"Jugson, I've finally done it!" Lucius whispered.

"You got us a meeting with real Death Eaters?" Jugson cried excitedly. Rodolphus gripped Severus' arm.

"Yes, incredible, isn't it? I was lucky to get that tip from—well, you know, my contact in London. We're meeting them the day after Hallowe'en at two o'clock, in the Hog's Head pub. That's in two weeks, it's a Hogsmeade weekend."

"But you're Head Boy, Lucius, what if someone sees us talking with—you know…"

"What, you want to meet them for Butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks? The Hog's Head is the safest place I could find on short notice. But no students ever go in a pub like the Hog's Head, Jugson, and I'm sure the adult clientele are hardly going to be interested in the activities of a couple of kids like us. Let's go to the library, I still have three more feet of parchment to write on Bubble-Head Charms for tomorrow." Their footsteps gradually faded away.

Severus extricated himself from their secret latibule. "Whew! Lucky Gregory the Smarmy was also Gregory, the fattest man in Bavaria."

"You know what we have to do, Severus?" Rodolphus said with a grin.

"No," Severus said bleakly, seeing a familiar sparkle in Rodolphus' eye—the one that signalled the imminent spewing of a harebrained scheme. "No Rodolphus, I know what you're thinking and we can't do it."

"I want to follow them to their secret meeting," Rodolphus declared, as if Severus hadn't spoken at all. "We've been spending an absolutely unholy amount of time studying and we need a break."

"We can't," said Severus, but he was beginning to feel uncertain. Rodolphus' proposition did sound rather enticing…

Rodolphus sensed his hesitation, and capitalized on it. "Come on, you're not telling me you aren't a tiny bit curious about what Malfoy's up to?"

"I should think that's pretty clear!" Severus retorted.

Rodolphus cocked his head. "Clear that you're not curious, or clear what he's up to?"

"What he's up to!"

"Aha! So you _are_ curious!" Rodolphus said triumphantly. "Let's start planning then!"

"We can't," Severus repeated fiercely.

"Name one reason why not!"

"I can think of twenty! One, first years aren't allowed to visit Hogsmeade, remember? Two, how would we even get out of the school? Filch blocks all the exits and makes everyone sign out. Three, supposing we did somehow escape the castle, we couldn't exactly stroll down the street with Malfoy and Jugson. They recognize us and hex us into bits for blowing their cover. Plus they'd get us into a lot of trouble with Astaroth. Even _he_ couldn't overlook the fact that we were caught sneaking out of the school. Four-"

"One," interrupted Rodolphus loudly, "if we're going to sneak out, the ban on younger students in Hogsmeade is the least of our problems, Filch of course being the greatest one."

He grinned. "As for two…"

He moved behind Gregory the Smarmy and wedged his fingertips into a crack in the stone wall that Severus had failed to see, and pulled it back to reveal a low, dark doorway that was mostly hidden from view by Gregory's vast backside. Simultaneously, Severus noticed, Gregory's stone hand twisted round about the wrist like a doorknob.

"It was partly open already," Rodolphus explained. "Potter and his friends must have been prying it open before we got here."

"The hand turns like a knob," Severus said, touching Gregory's hand, which looked very odd twisted upside down.

"Even if it doesn't lead to Hogsmeade," Rodolphus said excitedly, "there's still-" he counted rapidly in his head- "fifteen days till Malfoy's little meeting. That's plenty of time to explore the castle and look for a way out. You heard Petula, there must be loads of secret rooms and hidden passages snaking all over Hogwarts. Come on, let's follow-"

"Wait!" Severus held up his hand, and in the silence they heard the voices and footsteps of Flitwick and McGonagall. Both struck with the same thought at once, they leaped for Gregory and wrenched his hand back the right way, and the wall slid back into place.

"We'll come back here tonight," Rodolphus said decisively as they started to sprint towards the dungeons. "After everyone's asleep."

"Rodolphus…" Severus said hesitantly, "Did you really get three out of ten?"

Rodolphus reddened again. "Let's go back to the common room," he said in a tone that forestalled further questions, "we've got piles of homework to do."


	6. Different Kinds of Daring

Hours later, Severus' peaceful slumber was rudely interrupted by Rodolphus shaking him awake.

"Sev! Sev, let's go, everyone's sleeping."

"_I_ was sleeping," Severus said mournfully, trying to pull the covers over his head. But his interest in the secret passage behind Gregory the Smarmy and in what Malfoy was planning got the better of him, and he grudgingly fumbled for his slippers.

They crept through the common room and out of the dungeons without making a sound. But as neither of them could remember the way to Gregory the Smarmy or even which floor he was on, they took to wandering the halls. Twice Severus had to stop Rodolphus from waking the snoozing portraits to ask directions. Just as Severus began to feel that the soles of his slippers had completely worn out, they had the bright idea of returning to the infirmary and retracing their earlier steps. They soon came across Gregory the Smarmy on the second floor.

Rodolphus grasped the statue's hand as if to shake it, but pulled back as if burned.

"It's off centre! But I'm sure we set it right earlier. It must have been turned a bit already," he hissed. "Someone's been here."

"Or someone _is_ here."

"Potter," they both said at once.

"Has to be. Him and Black, or else all four," Rodolphus said. He took Gregory's hand as if in a handshake and twisted it to open the cleft. "If they're still inside we'll take them by surprise and hex them all. Come on!"

They slipped into the bituminous blackness and began to walk.

"What's that spell for lighting the end of my wand?" Rodolphus whispered.

"_Lumos_?" Severus' own wand lit up, splashing the rough walls with a dim but steady light. "Good thinking, Rodolphus," he whispered, and, feeling generous, added, "See, you're not such a dunce after all."

"Thanks, Sev," Rodolphus said sarcastically, but looked oddly gratified.

They advanced slowly, Severus' wandtip illuminating only a few feet of the passageway ahead of them. But they had been walking less than a minute when Rodolphus remarked, "Ugh, what's that stench?"

Severus sniffed the air. "Liquor—strong liquor." He smirked. "Smells like your mum."

"Hey! No wait, you're right actually. Who knew Potter drank Firewhiskey?"

"Hang on—_Nox_!" They were plunged back into blackness. Severus fumbled for Rodolphus' arm in the dark. "Listen!"

They stood stock-still and silent. Severus had heard faint scraping sounds ahead, and gradually they discerned the not-so-distant mewling of the school's most hated kitten. Then, to add to their utter horror, they heard Filch murmuring, "Yes, Mrs. Norris, the pub certainly was full tonight. A nice break from those boisterous little brats, though, wasn't it?"

Severus was petrified, but unfortunately Rodolphus wasn't. He jumped and hissed, "Filch!"

Filch immediately stopped whispering to his cat. He growled, with a tremor of panic in his voice, "Who's that? Who's there?"

With a little scratching sound, a small flame flared ahead of them in the tunnel, revealing Filch's sunken eyes and sour grimace only six feet away from them.

Severus' mind finally leaped back into gear and he cried, "_Relashio_!"

Red sparks shot from his wand straight at Filch, who yelped as he staggered backwards, unharmed but stunned, extinguishing the strange flame cupped in his hand.

In a flash of inspiration Severus shouted, "Run, Potter!" and they fled the way they had come, frightened by every shadow that was vaguely Filch-sized, not stopping till they were safely back in the common room.

"That was close," Severus panted, falling into an armchair.

"Sev, I could kiss you!" Rodolphus gasped, fervently embracing Severus. "You're the greatest person on the planet!"

It seemed their ruse had worked, for during the night there was no Filch suddenly bursting into the Slytherin common room screaming for their blood. Instead, at breakfast the next morning, the caretaker, wild-eyed and haggard, barrelled into the Great Hall and made straight for the Gryffindor table, where he sought out Potter and Black and seized them both by the scruff of their necks. Ignoring their frantic protests and the curious murmurs of the rest of the students, Filch hauled them to the head table and dropped them in front of Professor McGonagall.

"_What_ is the meaning of this, Filch?" McGonagall demanded coldly, looking annoyed at having her morning perusal of the _Daily Prophet_ interrupted.

"These two were out of bed at midnight, sneaking through a secret passageway," roared Filch. "It's lucky I caught the rogues when I did or they probably would have snuck out all the way to Hogsmeade—and when I surprised them in the passage, they _hexed_ me and ran!"

"No, no, you've got the wrong blokes, we swear we weren't out of bed last night!" gasped Black. "We didn't hex anyone!"

"What proof do you have?" Potter challenged Filch from his awkward position half-lying on top of McGonagall's crumpled newspaper, his elbow stuck in her buttered toast.

"Proof?" Filch bellowed, glaring at him. "I heard you myself! You shouted, 'Run, Potter!' before you scarpered!" Potter went very pale.

"And there's only only one Potter here—you! And, since you're Potter's best mate," Filch went on, addressing Black, "you must have been the one with him, the one who _attacked_ me!"

"But- but-" Black spluttered, flabbergasted.

"Now this is a lovely way to start the day," Bellatrix said cheerfully to Severus. "Out of bed at midnight, eh? I hope the punishment is _death_." Severus and Rodolphus exchanged conspiratorial grins.

"Is this true, Potter? Black?" Professor McGonagall asked sternly. Professor Dumbledore set down his teacup and began to observe the proceedings with detached interest.

"No!" Potter cried.

"We weren't out of bed," pleaded Black.

"I don't believe a word of it!" bellowed Filch. "Admit it, you were sneaking through the castle and you're both filthy little liars!"

"No, we're not lying!" Black cried desperately. Lupin and Pettigrew at the Gryffindor table looked like they were frantically trying to come up with an alibi to help their friends, but seemed to be drawing a blank.

"We weren't out of bed last night," Potter cried frantically, "I'm being set-"

The word 'up' froze on his lips as his eyes met Severus' across the Great Hall. Severus smiled widely and raised his goblet in salute. Potter was left with his mouth hanging open, staring mutely at Severus.

"Well?" Filch snarled, giving him a shove.

Potter snapped out of his trance and stared at Filch. "Yes, we're lying," he said abruptly.

"James?" Black said in horror.

"Yes, it's all lies," Potter said blandly to Professor McGonagall.

Black started to object, but Potter snapped, "Shut up, Sirius! Yes, we were out of bed and wandering round the secret passageways and attacking Filch and everything."

Rodolphus looked to Severus in mystification. "What, is he confessing now?"

"He's understood," Severus said with a smirk, "that he has no evidence on his side, while Filch would probably testify to the Wizengamot that he recognized their faces and voices last night, and believe it too. I suppose Potter thinks he's doing a noble thing by confessing outright instead of going through all the trouble of trying to implicate us. Taking his lumps, tradition of Gryffindor bravery and so on."

"He's doing a _stupid_ thing, that's for certain," Rodolphus said. Petula threw them a questioning glance and they smiled back innocently.

"Potter, Black, I would never have expected Gryffindors to pull a stunt like this," McGonagall chided them. "Sneaking out of bed, trying to slip out of the castle, attacking Mr. Filch—did you really think you would get away with it?"

"Yes," Potter said flatly. He seemed determined to acquiesce to whatever they accused him of, to get away from them quickly.

"James, what-" Black began, looking alarmed, but McGonagall cut him off by declaring, "Twenty points from each of you!"

"No!" Black exclaimed. Potter remained mutinously silent.

"And detention," McGonagall said.

"Fine," Potter responded.

"With Mr. Filch," Dumbledore interjected mildly.

The Gryffindors jumped. "No, please, Professor!" Potter said, looking panicked for the first time.

"You gave him quite a scare," Dumbledore said, raising his eyebrows. Was it Severus' imagination, or did Dumbledore's piercing gaze shift momentarily from Potter to him? "But he deserves the same respect as any other member of the Hogwarts staff."

There was no mistaking it now, he had definitely glanced at Severus. Did the Headmaster know who had _really _been sneaking out of bed? If he did, he gave no overt sign, continuing calmly, "Therefore, it is only fair that you do your detentions with Mr. Filch."

They both stared at him, horror-struck, while Filch rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "You may return to your seats," Dumbledore added.

Potter and Black slunk back to the Gryffindor table, to the excited murmurs of the other students. Severus and Rodolphus discreetly clinked their goblets.

"So the tunnel did lead to Hogsmeade," Rodolphus whispered as the meal resumed.

"And the pub Filch went to could have been the Hog's Head," Severus said excitedly, "there can't be that many pubs in a little village."

"We've got a lot of things to figure out before Hallowe'en, Sev," Rodolphus said. "First we've got to find another secret passage to Hogsmeade. Once that's done, we can worry about how we're going to hide from Malfoy and Jugson."

"If we put some toast in our pockets we can skip lunch and explore the castle."

Double Herbology was disastrous. On top of Petula's hat being devoured by a Fanged Geranium, the nickname 'Snivellus' had got round the whole school by now, and it seemed to Severus that the greenhouse and the whole castle were full of whispers and mocking laughter.

Not only that, but Professor Sprout was extremely upset. She kept interrupting her lesson to dab her eyes and blow her nose, but she wouldn't tell them what was wrong. Finally she gave up with trying to teach and let them go early, handing them back an essay as they left. After a satisfied glance at the expected '10/10, Excellent!' scrawled across the top of his essay, Severus had snuck a look at Rodolphus' paper. Rodolphus had, after a bleak stare, crumpled it up and stuffed in his bag. Four and a half.

After Herbology, the two boys went down to the Great Hall for lunch with everyone else, but they hid in an anteroom until they were certain everyone had gone in; then they cautiously exited into the empty Entrance Hall and began to search for secret rooms and secret passageways.

They thought they had hit paydirt when Severus pulled down on a torch bracket in the Entrance Hall and a section of the wall slid aside with a creaking groan, as if it had not been opened in a long time.

A gust of cool wind slipped into the Entrance Hall as the secret door scraped open. Severus and Rodolphus stared down into the darkness.

"There's a bit of light down there," Rodolphus remarked. "Maybe it leads outside!"

"Why? There's a pair of perfectly serviceable _doors_ right here. No, it must be something else."

The wall started to move back into place. Instinct pushed them forward, and the wall sealed them into the passageway.

"_Lumos_." Severus' wandtip illuminated a flight of stone steps, curving away sharply towards the light down below them. They moved downstairs slowly. A cool breeze kissed their cheeks.

"I think you're right, it does lead outside!" The light was brighter. Severus extinguished his wandtip and they hurried towards the end of the tunnel.

Suddenly they reached the end, and stopped short.

"Cool," said Rodolphus.

Severus simply stared, bereft of speech.

The tunnel led from the Entrance Hall straight into the side of the cliffs on which the castle perched. They were standing in a cave that was seemingly bored directly into the cliff face, five hundred feet above a mass of jagged rocks. Before them lay the green wilds of the Hogwarts grounds, sprawling and sleek under a grey sky. The sun, weak and wan, occasionally found the strength to stab through the clouds, creating shafts of light, scattered over the rolling countryside. From this height Severus could even make out the dark shadow of the giant squid swimming restlessly in the lake.

"Rather nice up here, isn't it?" said Rodolphus brightly.

"It's… it's…" For once words failed Severus. All the adjectives in his head seemed too feeble.

"But it doesn't lead anywhere," Rodolphus sighed, oblivious to Severus' awe. "Let's go."

Severus reluctantly dragged himself away from the view, promising himself he would come back sometime—alone.

When they emerged to the empty Entrance Hall, Rodolphus proposed that they move on to the dungeons. But when they got lost in the maze of dim, damp corridors and finally ended up at the entrance to their own common room, they gave up and dispiritedly climbed the stairs to the Entrance Hall again.

Then Rodolphus pointed out the door on the other side of the marble staircase.

"I've never been down there," he said brightly. "Let's try that."

They proceeded through the door and down the flight of stone stairs behind it, and discovered a wide, brightly lit corridor quite unlike the labyrinth through which the Slytherin common room was reached. Large paintings of foods adorned the walls.

"Maybe there's a door behind one of these paintings," Rodolphus said hopefully.

"How will we know how to get through?" wondered Severus, disconsolately.

They tried everything: prodding the paintings with their wands, putting a foot up to the canvas to see if they could step through, prying behind the frames and trying to pull them out like doors. They only succeeded in putting several shoeprints on the paintings, hurting their fingers, and making a roast chicken leap up in annoyance and scurry off its plate. Then, as Severus was attempting to peel the canvas of a painting of a bowl of fruit back from the gilt-edged frame, he thought he heard a tiny giggle.

"What-?" He ran his hand over the painting again, and a green pear began unmistakably to chortle. "Hey—Rodolphus! Look at this!"

Rodolphus turned as Severus gently tickled the pear, and to their surprise it turned into a door handle.

They looked at each other in excitement. Severus seized the pear-shaped handle and twisted it, and the painting swung open to reveal a high-ceilinged chamber, full of bustling little house-elves all wearing identical neat tea-towels bearing the Hogwarts crest.

"The kitchens!" Severus exclaimed.

The sound of his voice attracted the attention of the house-elves, who immediately rushed forth and swarmed them, cheery and eager to please.

"Can we get you something, sirs? Anything at all, sirs?"

"Fancy a cup of tea, Severus?" Rodolphus asked. The words were barely out of his mouth before a tea-tray was racing towards them, borne by six thrilled little elves.

Severus stared. He'd seen his family's house-elves only once before, when he'd had to seek their aid after Vanishing his legs by mistake. They'd been delighted to do it, of course, but apart from that one occasion, he'd never really given a thought to where his puddings came from or who pressed his shirts. And even at home there were only about half a dozen of them. Seeing these hundreds of house-elves all milling about, cooking and baking and serving on the golden platters set on four long preparation tables, was rather daunting.

"Get me some roast chicken or I'll box your ears," Rodolphus commanded the elf who was pouring his tea. "We've missed lunch and our jaunt's made us peckish."

No sooner had he spoken than he was handed an enormous plate of roast chicken by a beaming elf, who seemed perfectly undisturbed by his abuse. Though Rodolphus was the type of person who viewed the very sun and moon as his chattels, Severus could not help but be surprised by his abusive attitude towards the house-elves.

"Are you really meant to boss them around like that?" he asked Rodolphus uncertainly.

"Of course! What, you've never seen your mother training the hired help? I've seen mine, and compared to her I must seem gentle as a lamb. Biscuits!" he shouted suddenly, and almost instantly an elf appeared with a plateful of biscuits.

"Good service," Rodolphus admitted, and the elves squealed in elation. "Go on, Sev, aren't you hungry? I'm sure you could manage a slice of stoat and glossop pie."

At his words, the entire kitchen fell silent. Suddenly every single elf was staring at them. Severus and Rodolphus froze, taken aback.

One house-elf approached them slowly and whispered, "Did sir say _stoat and glossop pie_?"

Rodolphus nodded warily. The house-elves looked at Severus in awe.

"It's him! It's him!" they whispered excitedly.

"We is begging your pardon, sir," squeaked the first elf, "but we is making our stoat pie with soft-boiled glossops since 1671, and you is the only one in the school who is ever eating this dish!"

"Not even Hagrid is touching it!" cried another.

"Fancy that," Rodolphus said through a mouthful of chicken, "you're a celebrity here. I'm thisty!" he snapped at a nearby elf, who was only too happy to oblige him with a drink.

Severus had not thought it possible for the elves to become _more_ subservient, but they did, repeatedly bowing so low their long noses scraped the floor. He stared as a large serving of pie sped towards him, with heaps of chocolate éclairs and peppermint humbugs on the side.

"Oh no, look! They're serving the desserts," Rodolphus said, pointing to the cakes that were vanishing through the ceiling from the golden platters of the preparation tables. "Lunch is almost over. We ought to go back to the common room."

They hurriedly finished their tea and Severus scarfed down the pie, to the thrilled squeaks of the house-elves. Then the elves loaded them down with sweets and cakes, begged them to return soon, and bowed them out of the kitchens, with promises of stoat pie appearing at the Slytherin table as often as possible.

"Strange little creatures, aren't they?" Severus said wonderingly as they walked through the Entrance Hall and down into their side of the dungeons. "I can't imagine spending my whole life serving people—and enjoying it."

"That's a rather repulsive thought," agreed Rodolphus. "What are you going to do then, after Hogwarts and everything? Something intellectual, no doubt."

Severus considered this. "Maybe I'll be an Auror or something."

Rodolphus grimaced. "Ugh! I'll never be an Auror."

"Why not? I like curses and it sounds exciting—and prestigious."

"Yeah, well, I reckon I'm more on the supply side of crime. Think about it, would you really want to be running round after people all the time? They'll be having all the fun and you have to clean up their messes. And think about it. Do you really want to become _Astaroth_?"

Severus laughed. "Ugh! Well, if I'm not going to be an Auror, what _am _I going to be? A Ministry lackey?"

"Definitely not a Quidditch player," Rodolphus grinned, poking him in the ribs where the bandages were still wrapped. He brightened. "Maybe I can be a Quidditch player! I'm good at flying. You can be…"

He considered for a moment. "A teacher. That would be good, wouldn't it? You're an insupportable know-it-all and you like telling people off. I'm just joking, Sev."

"Ha, ha," Severus sneered. "Why don't I be Minister for Magic?"

"No, I want to be that! You can have Dumbledore's job—Headmaster of Hogwarts. _Lux lucida_."

The stone wall slid back and they entered the common room to find the rest of the first years already there. Bellatrix set a tapestry on fire when she saw them.

"_Where_ have the pair of you been? You missed lunch!"

"Snape has crumbs on his mouth," Avery said.

"We were doing homework," Severus said quickly, slipping his sleeve rather uncouthly across his lips. "In the library."

"What, and Madam Pince snuck you a plate of biscuits for being frequent customers?" quipped Maud.

"Oh look, it's time for Potions!" Rodolphus said loudly. "Right, we're off then."

* * *

In the afternoon Potions class the Slytherins were particularly sour with the Gryffindors. Each of them, with one exception, was trying to think of a way to collectively humiliate the Gryffindors in revenge for Severus' new nickname. The one exception was Severus himself, who was daydreaming how he would go about pickling Sirius Black's head in a jar.

As a result of all this cerebral activity on the part of the students who were usually provokers, the class was unusually subdued. This caused some anxiety for Professor Marchbanks, who suspected the Slytherins of plotting something big—which they were; which consternation wholly occupied the poor old witch's thoughts and prevented her from noticing Remus Lupin's carelessly throwing a handful of porcupine quills into a volatile potion until it had exploded all over himself and his partner Rodolphus.

Both boys screamed as they were coated in scalding orange goo.

"Oh no!" Professor Marchbanks rushed over. "Oh boys, what have you done?"

"They added porcupine quills," Severus said absently.

"No, it was nettles," said Maud Wilkes.

Severus stared at her, puzzled. "Porcupine quills."

"Nettles," replied Maud calmly, "I'm sure it was. At least, I _think _so."

Professor Marchbanks was looking between fretfully. "Oh dear, didn't anyone see what it was?"

"I think you'd better go along with them to the hospital wing, Professor, since we're not sure what they added," said Maud, sounding suspiciously reasonable. Severus opened his mouth to protest—he_ was_ sure it had been porcupine quills—but Maud silenced with him a look. She was clearly up to something.

Seizing an armful of bottles from a shelf, Professor Marchbanks hustled the wounded from the room, crying, "Don't worry, Madam Pomfrey and I will soon have you healed up! The rest of you just keep working quietly here." She ran out.

The click of the door shutting seemed like a signal for the class to start chatting and ignore their potions.

"You don't think Remus got burned really badly, do you?" Peter Pettigrew said worriedly. "He was already looking rather poorly. I think he's got the flu."

"Who are you, his mother?" Sirius Black laughed. "He's fine. It's Lestrange I'm worried about—if his good looks are permanently damaged what would he have to offer Bellatrix?"

"He'd still be better looking than _you_," Bellatrix retorted, furious and flushed.

"Hey Black, Potter, nice work on old Filchy last night," called Priya Sinque, a pureblood Indian Gryffindor.

The other Gryffindors chimed in with their excited praise. Severus noticed Lily Evans stayed silent. She was the only one still working on her and Maud Wilkes' potion. But even Avery and Petula were looking grudgingly awed. Black grinned and nodded. Potter smiled briefly and looked across to Severus, who was beginning to wonder if maybe framing Black and Potter hadn't been so clever after all. They were being lauded as heroes for supposedly doing something that Severus realized was the secret wish of every student and many teachers at Hogwarts.

Not only that, but the nickname 'Snivellus' had really caught on by now, even with people he didn't even know. Everyone but the Slytherins was whispering it and giggling when he passed in the halls, his cheeks burning. But he consoled himself with the thought of the horrible things Filch would make them suffer as part of their detention. However much he might want glory and popularity, it was definitely not worth spending an hour with Filch.

"Thanks, thanks," Black said, waving his hand modestly. "It was nothing."

_Of course it was bloody nothing, you didn't actually _do _it_, Severus was on the verge of snarling, but he kept his mouth shut. Potter was staring at him.

Bellatrix gave a bark of laughter like a cackle. "I cannot believe you two idiots could do something so marvellous as hexing Filch, I really can't!"

"I'm a Gryffindor! We're famous for our bravery," Black said arrogantly.

"Brave, you? Have you forgotten that you're _scared of the dark_?"

"That was ages ago," Black interjected, reddening. "And you're just jealous you didn't do it yourself!"

"Yes, you're actually right," said Bellatrix thoughtfully. "But really, how does taking by surprise a man armed with nothing but a _kitten _qualify as bravery?"

"Rather seems like _cowardice_ to me," drawled Maud Wilkes. "It was, after all, two against one. Unless you count the kitten."

"It's _Filch_," Pettigrew cried out, surprising all of them. He turned pink and murmured, "It _was _brave."

"Of course," Maud said placidly.

Affronted, Pettigrew snapped, "What do you know? You weren't there!"

"Neither were you!" retorted Maud. Pettigrew fell silent. "So where wereyou, Pettigrew, you and Lupin, while your two friends were assailing the caretaker?"

"I…" Pettigrew looked helplessly to his friends.

"We didn't want to wake you and Remus," Potter said stiffly. "It was… too dangerous."

Pettigrew looked hurt. "I'm a Gryffindor too. I could have helped."

"Good God, how many of you so-called heroes does it _take _to assault one man?" Maud exclaimed. "You should try again tonight. Maybe if all of you go, you'll manage to kill him."

Lily Evans suddenly slammed her textbook on the tabletop. "_Enough_!"

Everyone jumped about a foot into the air. Lily glared at them over her bubbling cauldron.

"_Enough_ with all this house rubbish! Everyone is as brave as everyone else. Peter, stop taking Wilkes' bait, she's just trying to get a rise out of you."

"Well, I seem to have hit the wrong target," Maud said, staring at Lily in mild amazement. "So, everyone is equally brave?"

"Suicidal is a better word," Lily said, shooting dark looks at Potter and Black. "It was stupid to attack Filch. And it's absolutely ridiculous for anyone to wish they had been there." She glared at Pettigrew, who trembled. "Of course foolishness and suicidal tendencies don't seem limited to certain houses." She looked at Bellatrix, who stared steadily back.

"Then you don't believe in house-specific qualities," Maud said, probing. "Gryffindors are just as clever as Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs as ambitious as Slytherins, et cetera."

"Yes, I suppose so." Lily was growing wary.

"So according to you, there's no such thing as Gryffindor bravery?" Maud asked with something like triumph in her voice.

Lily stared at her. "Well… Look, that's not fair!"

"Yeah, that's a loaded question," Black said. "If she says no, you'll say she's a disgrace to her house, and if she says yes, you'll say-"

"Prove it," Maud finished.

Lily scowled into the cauldron between them while the other Gryffindors exchanged glances.

Maud was grinning.

"I tell you what," she said, leaning back casually in her chair. "I suppose you all noticed Professor Sprout was very upset this morning. I've found out why: it seems her white cat Ned has run away—apparently he was involved in an altercation with Mrs. Norris and lost."

"Hey, a catfight!" Rosier said.

Maud smiled thinly. "Right, Evan. So, Lily, all you have to do is bring in poor little Ned tomorrow morning, and we'll believe you Gryffindors are all equally brave, or equally suicidal, whatever."

Lily frowned. "What's the catch?"

"Oh, didn't I mention," Maud's smile widened, "that Ned was last seen running into the Forbidden Forest?"

There was a collective gasp. Lily went as white as her namesake. Potter protested, "Now wait a minute! The Forbidden Forest is forbidden for a reason! There are all sorts of dangerous creatures in there!"

"Of course there are," Maud agreed. "Otherwise it wouldn't be much of a challenge, would it?"

"But-"

"Shut up, Potter," Lily interrupted. "I'll do it."

"When?" Maud asked.

"Tonight."

"But there's a full moon tonight!" Pettigrew said, his eyes wide as dinner plates. "Everyone knows during the full moon all the monsters get a little bit worse-"

"Excellent," Maud said brightly, reaching out to shake Lily's hand.

"Hang on," Avery burst out. "She could just get Hagrid to catch the cat for her. How will we know she's really been in the Dark Forest?"

"One of us will have to go with her," Rosier said ominously.

There was a pause as the Slytherins' eyes darted back and forth but no one was volunteering. Lily looked cautiously relieved.

Something hot and angry stirred within Severus. _She's _not _getting off that easy_, he thought, and before he knew it he'd opened his mouth like a fool.

"For Merlin's sake, I'll go," he exploded.

Lily stared at him for a second, almost as if she were sizing him up; then she seized Maud's hand and shook it.

"Deal."


	7. The Forbidden Forest

So he ended up sneaking out of the dungeons at midnight that night to meet Lily Evans. He tiptoed through the dark halls in his socks, carrying his shoes and hardly daring to breathe for fear of Filch nabbing him.

The Slytherins had been discussing the dare during dinner. "Marvellous idea, Maud," Bellatrix cried, "the Mudblood'll never manage to get through the Dark Forest!"

Rodolphus was back in fine form and had been filled in on what he'd missed. "Yes, capital idea, Maud," he snarled, "only now Sev's going to die with her!"

They all looked at Avery, who raised his hands. "I'm sorry, all right? But you have to admit it's true that she could have gotten the groundskeeper to do the work for her. We needed an eyewitness—evidence, you know?"

"And will my blood splattered all over the damned cat be enough evidence?" Severus snapped.

"I'll admit that part of the dare was not to my liking," Maud allowed. "I only meant for the Mudblood to try to sneak out and get caught by Filch. He'll be ten times as vigilant tonight, you know, after what Potter and Black did to him."

"Great," Severus said bleakly. He let his gaze drift across the Great Hall to the Gryffindor first years. They all seemed to be advising Lily as well, while she sat and poked despondently at her food. Potter seemed slightly uncomfortable, but Black was jabbering away excitedly and waving his wand about. It took Severus a moment to realize Black was enacting an attack on Filch for the captivated audience of his friends. He appeared to finally have crossed the line between bluffing and total idiocy, and had actually swallowed his own self-congratulating propaganda.

Severus noticed Lupin was still missing, and asked Rodolphus about it.

"I really don't know where he is," Rodolphus said indifferently. "I was fixed up in half an hour. He must have gotten splashed a lot worse than I was."

"He'll have me and Evans for company in the hospital wing in a few hours, after we get caught by Filch," said Severus gloomily.

"Cheer up, Snape!" said Maud. "There's an easy way out of this mess."

Severus was nonplussed. Maud leaned forward. "The name of the game is sabotage. Just make sure she doesn't get her hands on that cat. You're clever, Snape, we've no doubt you'll manage."

"Besides, that poor bastard of a cat's probably long dead, what with all the nasty carnivorous beasts in the forest," Fulton Bulstrode remarked.

They all stared at him. "What?" he asked blankly.

After dinner Rodolphus pulled him aside. "You know, Sev, this may be a solution to more than one problem. If the Mudblood doesn't succeed, then Gryffindor gets knocked down a few pegs, and you'll be a Slytherin hero, albeit a secret one. Or, well... at least the disgrace of your little 'fit' yesterday might be wiped from memory. This is your chance to win back respect in our house, Sev! Don't disappoint us."

But was that enough reason to sabotage Lily Evans?

In times of crisis Severus generally turned to logic.

Maybe he could get Lily caught by Filch, but, he reasoned, he would undoubtedly be caught too. Similarly, he could arrange to have her consumed by some voracious monster in the Dark Forest, but surely he would be its next victim. His major problem was that, logically, any misfortune that befell Lily was certain to be his as well. Was he willing to risk his own life for a chance to have his new nickname done away with, at least within the confines of Slytherin house? What good was his housemates' respect if he was dead? He could always try to get separated from her, but then he would be running the risk of her actually succeeding on her own. At least if he stayed with her he had a chance of interfering with her mission—even if he didn't know how he would do it.

They had arranged to meet in the Entrance Hall at midnight. He was early and the room was dark and silent except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. After a quick check for Lily—punctuality was clearly no concern of hers, he thought contemptuously—he slipped behind the clock to wait.

But just as he was sliding into the shadows, the doors of the Great Hall swung open, admitting Argus Filch. Severus swallowed hard.

The caretaker shut the doors soundlessly and crept forward. Maud's voice drifted back through Severus' mind: "_He'll be ten times as vigilant tonight, you know, after what Potter and Black did to him_..." Well, that seemed apt enough. Filch was hunched and tense—and armed, Severus saw as the man moved into a puddle of moonlight from a high window, with his kitten in one hand and a huge club in the other. He was twitching slightly and gave a tremendous jump when an owl hooted outside. Severus would have found the sight comical, had it not been for the lethal beating he believed was imminent.

Filch glanced his way and he ducked back behind the clock. But Mrs. Norris leaped from Filch's hand and tracked Severus to the grandfather clock. She stopped in front and mewed. _Devil cat born of bloodhound parents_, Severus thought viciously. He wasn't even wearing any kind of scent. Of course, he was sweating rather profusely.

"What is it, my sweet?"

Filch's footsteps drew near. Severus heard the club whistle experimentally through the air. He held his breath and clutched his wand tightly.

"What's there?" Filch murmured.

Severus lifted his wand.

_BONG_!

Mrs. Norris screeched and sprang back and Filch yelped as he dropped the club on his foot. All this clamour fortunately covered up Severus' squeak of shock.

_BONG_!

It was the grandfather clock, of course, striking midnight.

_BONG_!

And in between the clock's bells, the kitten's hissing, Filch's grunts, and the sound of his own racing pulse, Severus heard a popping noise in the distance, repeated again and again. _Pop... pop pop..._

"Bloody hell, bloody, bloody hell... Calm down, my sweet, calm down..." Filch paused. "Do you hear that?"

_BONG!... pop pop pop... pop pop._ Then the distant sound of gleeful laughter.

"Come on, Mrs. Norris!" Filch scooped up his cat and his club and limped hastily back the way he had come, hollering, "Stop that racket! I'm coming for you, you blasted rascal!"

Severus waited out the rest of the gonging, his heart stopping with every _BONG_ that rang through his skull; then he eased out from behind the clock.

"Meow," he heard from the darkness.

He gasped and nearly fell over backwards, waggling his wand pointlessly. Lily Evans giggled as she moved into the moonlight. "Relax!"

"Oh, it's you," Severus whispered, too relieved to be angry. "Filch was here a moment ago, but there was a noise and-"

"I know," she whispered, "I bribed Peeves with a bag of Dungbombs, you see, to keep them both occupied all night. Peeves was more interested in annoying Filch than in telling on a couple of students out of bed after hours."

Severus couldn't help but feel a grudging admiration for her resourcefulness. Tack 1, Capture by Filch, was clearly out.

"Let's go," he said. It was a good thing, he reflected, that the odds of them finding Ned in the Dark Forest, dead or alive, were practically nil.

The front doors were bolted shut, but Lily had the answer to that too: a trick coaxed out of Arthur Weasley, who, she explained, had years of experience in sneaking round the castle after hours. A tap or two in the right place made one of the doors pop open just wide enough for them to slip through.

"Good thing Bulstrode didn't volunteer to assist me," Lily whispered as she squeezed through the narrow aperture. "He would never have fit."

"I'm not _assisting _you," Severus whispered back as he followed, sliding through with surprisingly more facility than Lily. He straightened up and brushed himself off, and said coolly, "I am strictly an observer."

Lily shrugged. "Fine. Just don't get in the way then."

Severus crossed his fingers behind his back and nodded. Tack 2, Getting Trapped In the Castle, was out. He was relieved that at least she didn't know about the little cave he and Rodolphus had found that day. He couldn't bear the thought of defiling it with a Mudblood's presence.

The lawns were painted silver-white by the moonlight. Looking up, Severus took in and the full fat moon like a shining silver Sickle, drowning out the light of the stars. Their shoes made quiet squeaking noises as they trekked over the dewy grass towards the Dark Forest. These were the only sounds until a queer howl suddenly rent the air.

They both stopped short.

"That came from the forest!" Lily gasped.

"Yeah, it's a wolf."

She gazed at him in mute shock. "What did you expect, rainbows and butterflies?" Severus asked. "There's all sorts of creatures in the Dark Forest—wolves included."

Lily pursed her lips and got a better grip on her wand. "All right, let's get this over with quickly. I'd like to be mauled to death as little as possible tonight."

They crossed the lawn and entered the Dark Forest. Once inside, Lily glanced about nervously and said, "Let's light our wands."

Severus sighed. "I thought you said you _didn't_ want to get mauled to death tonight. If that's the case, then we can only use one wand at a time. It's not safe to have both going at once in a forest like this. Magic draws the beasts."

Lily shuddered and nodded. Severus reminded himself he was supposed to be sabotaging the expedition. Tack 3, Devouring by Large Ravenous Beasts, was equally out. But he hadn't liked that one anyways. He had his own survival to worry about along with hers.

They started walking. Lily had a handy charm to guide them called the Four-Point Spell, which indicated north and made it impossible for them to get seriously lost. Tack 4, Getting Hopelessly Lost, was out.

They wound through the trees, Lily in front, Severus close behind. Lily whispered, "Ned! Neddy! Here, Neddy!" and started waving a toy filled with catnip close to the ground. Severus grabbed her arm.

"What are you doing?"

"I borrowed a toy from Priya, who's got a cat," Lily said, puzzled. "What's wrong?"

There was a grunt from the shadows nearby and a large furry creature lumbered out of the bushes. Severus seized the catnip, threw it on the ground, and pulled Lily away from the beast.

The creature, which resembled an overgrown ferret, glowered up at them and bared its yellow and rather grotty fangs. "Bugger off!" it snarled, before making off with the catnip toy.

When it had gone, Lily exhaled. "What was that?"

"A Jarvey, of course," Severus said testily. "Looks like an ugly ferret with rotten teeth, and didn't you hear it swear? I expect the fact that Jarveys love catnip is news to you." Lily nodded. "We were lucky this time; it had just woken up, it wasn't in the mood for a fight. We could have gotten ripped to shreds."

"I thought you said it had rotten teeth," Lily said nervously.

"They may be rotten but they're still bloody sharp. And anyways it doesn't need them, it's got pretty sharp claws too." Lily was rooted to the spot, staring at him. "Are we going on or not?" he asked crossly.

She nodded and moved past him. He started to follow, but suddenly collided with her. "Hey!" he hissed.

"Shh!" She fumbled for her wand but he caught her arm before she could reach it. "Ah! It's gone! Did you see it?" she asked, disengaging herself from his grip.

"See what? The Jarvey?"

"No, the face!"

"What face? Where? Whose?"

"A man's... I think. I only saw him for an instant," Lily said. "Behind those shrubs over there. He looked surprised to see me."

"Filch?"

Lily shook her head. "Pale, but with a broader forehead and a white beard, and stronger-looking... You didn't see him?"

"No. Are you sure you didn't imagine it?"

"I'm not mad," Lily said firmly. "He wasthere a moment ago."

Severus shrugged. "If you say so."

Lily scowled. "Forget it. Let's go."

They walked on in silence for a little while, deeper and deeper into the Dark Forest. The cold wind whistled in the bare branches of the trees, but they groaned and creaked even when the air was still. Then Severus walked right into Lily again. Stumbling backwards, he said, "What is it now?"

"The... the lights," Lily murmured. She pointed. "The lights... they're beautiful."

Severus did not bother to follow her gaze. He clapped his hand over her eyes and propelled her forward until the buzzing had faded away. Lily yanked his hand away, looking confused and angry, but Severus spoke first.

"Don't look at the fairy lights, for God's sake," he snapped. "They mesmerize you and lure you away from your path to get you desperately lost. They think it's fun and they're skilled at it—you wouldn't be found again for weeks."

Lily was shaking a little and still a bit disoriented. She leaned against a tree to collect herself. "How do you know all this? You've never been in the Dark Forest before either, have you?"

"No, but my house is in the middle of a forest full of magical beasts and plants just like this one. I grew up with these creatures roaming through the woods round my house. I learned how to deal with Jarveys the hard way," he said, exposing an old pink scar on his leg, "and as for the fairies—well, Rodolphus saw the lights from my window one night." He started to chuckle as the memory came back to him. "He ripped off his shirt and walked right off the bloody sill. If he hadn't broken his leg in the fall from my window I think he would have kept following the fairies forever."

"I see." Lily straightened up. She looked a bit embarrassed. It occurred to Severus that here was his chance to get separated from her and, at the same time, ensure that she would never recover Ned—indeed, that she herself would never be recovered either. But the opportunity had passed. _Well,_ he thought, _the next time she sees fairy lights, I'll just let her go_.

But they didn't see any more fairy lights as they moved further into the forest. They did, however, observe a host of flesh-eating slugs gorging themselves on a deer carcass, a proliferation of bats and owls swooping over their heads, and a cat-shaped flash of white weaving through the woods. A cat-shaped flash of white? Severus did a double take.

"Ned?" gasped Lily.

Severus couldn't believe it. The odds of finding one cat in a forest this size full of magical beasts and plants must be near zero—yet here he was, that poor bastard. "You're _not_ serious."

Lily pointed with her lit wand. "Look! There he is again!"

Severus turned in time to see the streak of white hurtle past them. Lily cried, "Ned!" and raced off after him, heedless of leaving Severus in the dark. He groaned and ran after her.

"Evans!"

"Ned!"

"Evans!"

The light at the end of her wand bobbed up and down in the darkness ahead, and she seemed to be the faster runner because Severus soon found himself alone. He could hear her calling for the cat, but her voice seemed to be bouncing off the tree trunks and he couldn't tell where it was coming from. Cursing under his breath, he whipped out his own wand but did not dare light it, for fear it would draw magical monsters. Fortunately, as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he was able to make out a brighter area ahead—brighter than any mere wand-light. It was a clearing filled with moonlight, and Lily was standing under the lone oak tree in the middle of it. Severus could see the cat clinging to a high bare branch of the tree, mewing pitifully as the leafless tree swayed in the wind.

"Ned! Neddy! Come down, Neddy!" She spotted Severus. "Snape! The cat's in the tree."

"So I see," Severus said unhappily.

"I'm going up for him. You stand guard."

"Now wait a second-" he began, but she was already clambering up.

Severus leaned against the tree trunk. He had failed. She was going to retrieve Ned. Gryffindor would show Slytherin up once again. His own housemates would probably start using the name "Snivellus" and he would be forced to drop out of school and pursue a low-paying menial trade in total obscurity until his bitter and unexceptional death.

Something slipped by in the dense shadows of the forest surrounding their tree He only caught a glimpse of it as it passed into the moonlight: a face, broad and pale and definitely human, with large wide-set eyes that glinted at him in—and of this he was sure—shock, bordering on fear. He jumped and blinked. The face was gone.

"What..." Severus murmured, taking a step forward. The face Lily had seen! He'd thought she was imagining it.

Perhaps _he_ was imagining it too—maybe she was getting into his brain. But it seemed so real! They'd both seen it, it _must _be real. A ghost? Not out here in the open. He hoped it wasn't a Boggart—he didn't know the countercurse—but no, he couldn't think of any person they were both scared of who had a broad white face. It wasn't Filch or Astaroth; he was certain he had never seen that face before.

"Oops—oh no! Look out below!"

There was a snap of wood above his head and he looked up to see a white shape plummeting towards his face, screeching and hissing. He gasped and jumped out of the way. Ned hit the ground running, and before Severus could react the cat had raced off into the trees.

"You were supposed to catch him!" Lily hissed from above. Severus craned his neck to glare at her.

"I could have used more notice than 'Look out below!' "

"Now I've got to track him down all over again! We'll be searching all night!"

"Please, let's just give up! I'm tired and cold and this search is ridiculous. We'll never find Ned before sunup, not twice in one night! He'll be eaten long before then-"

"Snape!" Lily was horrified.

"-and if we're not careful, we'll be someone's midnight snack too," he went on coldly. He was thinking of the strange face they'd seen. He didn't know what creature—or person—it could belong to. "Can we just go in now?"

"Snape, I am not going back without that bloody cat!" Lily snapped.

Severus began to reply, but he was interrupted by a wolf howl.

"It's louder than before."

"That means it's closer than before," he said.

The wolf howled again. "It's definitely closer."

"And hungrier."

"Please come up here," Lily whispered.

Severus already had his arms wrapped round the trunk. He scaled the oak tree in a hurry, scrambling to grip branches with his shaking, clammy hands. He didn't dare to look down. Lily gasped softly every time his hands or feet slipped, but, fuelled by pure fear, he reached the top in half the time it had taken her. She shifted over and he sat hunched up in the crook of the branch, clinging tightly to the trunk.

A cold wind blowing in from the lake made the oak tree waver ever so slightly. Severus' gaze wandered briefly downwards—that was a mistake. The ground seemed miles away. His stomach lurched. He felt suddenly lightheaded. He grabbed Lily's shoulder and held on with his eyes closed until the dizziness passed. Then he released her, opened his eyes and offered her what must have been the weakest of smiles in apology. Lily stared at him in consternation.

"Snape..."

He shook his head fiercely and pressed a finger to his lips. A twig snapped in the woods and they both flinched. He leaned forward carefully and peered round the trunk of the great oak.

A black shaggy creature was moving out of the shadows of the woods. Growling softly and creeping along close to the ground, it began to move towards them.

Severus pulled his head back and held his breath. Lily tried to see past him, but he held her back. As long as they and the beast were on opposite sides of the thick tree trunk, there was a chance that it wouldn't see them.

But it could smell them. The breeze picked up again and reminded him that the beast was downwind of them. He groaned inwardly.

He could hear the wolf getting closer and closer...

Lily's cold hand found his wrist and encircled it anxiously.

She was, he realized, depending on him to get them out of this, to have some miraculous secret trick that would save them from the beast, like with the Jarvey and the fairies. But he'd never dealt with wolves firsthand, never been close to one except once when his and Rodolphus' fathers went hunting and brought back a wolf carcass which finished as a handsome rug. Severus didn't know how they were going to escape this. He didn't know _if _they would. He could only hope the wolf wouldn't notice them.

It was coming under the tree now, sniffing the ground. Lily's grip on his wrist tightened so quickly she was cutting off his circulation. This wolf was considerably smaller than the one whose pelt decorated Septimus Snape's floor, but Severus knew even wolf cubs could be deadly. He'd thought they were in trouble with the Jarvey, but a wolf's teeth and claws were ten times sharper than a Jarvey's, and not at all rotten.

They sat there rigidly as the wolf pawed the grass where Severus had been standing, and took a long sniff; then its snout moved along to the tree trunk. Severus had been holding his breath for so long he thought his lungs were going to burst.

The wolf sniffed the trunk and put its paws against it; then it slowly lifted its head and stared at them.

It blinked its yellow eyes once and its lips peeled back to reveal the pointed fangs. A low growl rolled out from its throat.

Then several things happened at once.

Severus and Lily both exhaled, Severus to catch his breath, Lily to scream. But before she could make a sound, he clapped a hand over her mouth; and because she was still holding onto his other hand, the action threw them both off-balance and they began to teeter dangerously.

At the same time a white cat-shaped figure wandered in from the surrounding woods. Ned had returned, wondering where his two pursuers had disappeared to. The wolf saw Ned at the same time that Ned saw the wolf.

And there was a thunder of hooves from the woods.


	8. Rescue

Lily reached out and grabbed hold of another branch to steady herself. Severus had already begun to fall backwards, but she caught a handful of his cloak and managed to pull him back upright.

The wolf and Ned both bolted at the same time. Ned headed for the woods, screeching. The wolf headed for Ned, licking its chops.

The hooves clattered to a stop under the tree. Severus and Lily stared down into the pale broad face of the man they had both glimpsed before. He was human all right—to about the level of his waist, at which point his body became a white horse's.

"A centaur..." Severus whispered. No wonder he hadn't known what it was; there weren't any in the forest near Snape Hall.

"Jump!" called the centaur.

The wolf had pounced on Ned by this time. Lily saw the ambush quite clearly in the moonlight and a strangled shriek escaped her.

"Quickly!" The centaur waved to them urgently.

Making the split-second decision for them both, Severus caught Lily round the waist and yanked. They tumbled over backwards together, Lily suddenly very limp, Severus desperately hoping he had made the right choice.

The centaur caught them deftly and tossed them over his shoulder onto his back. Severus clung to the creature's mane and struggled to keep Lily from sliding off—she had fainted in the fall, or possibly hit her head; he didn't have time to check, because all the commotion had diverted the wolf's attention from its dissection of Ned, and it was starting towards them, growling.

Without a word of warning the centaur kicked off and launched in the opposite direction, closely pursued by the wolf. Of course, in a race, a young wolf was no match for an adult centaur. Even burdened with two children, the sleek, strong centaur easily outstripped the wolf. Severus saw the forest blur as they sped through, weaving between trees, leaping up and sailing straight over the lower beasts. Once he saw fairy lights in the distance and had to close his eyes to quell the impulse to leap off the centaur's back and follow them.

The wind was cold and stung his cheeks. Eventually the wolf's barks and snarls faded into the distance.

In time the wind became less harsh, and Severus opened his eyes. They had left the forest and were slowing down as they neared the edge of the lake. He had managed to keep both himself and Lily on the centaur's back during their wild ride through the woods. Presently the centaur dumped them both unceremoniously off his back.

"Hey!" Severus gasped as he and Lily rolled onto the grass. His legs were weak, but he struggled to his knees and turned her over. She was unconscious. He patted her cheeks, trying to wake her.

The centaur towered over them, looking furious. He looked different out here in the open, with no trees to form perspective—taller, more frightening. Severus almost had a hard time believing the creature who stood before him, fuming, was the same one that had rescued him from certain death.

"You should not be here!" the centaur thundered. "What were you doing in the forest, at this time, on such a night?"

Severus couldn't find an answer. The centaur saw his eyes flicker over to the forest, and said impatiently, "The danger is left behind. Do you not realize the peril I took you from?"

"Thank you," was what sprang from Severus' mouth.

The centaur scowled.

"Don't say it if you do not understand what it is for."

"But—you saved our lives!"

"Luck delivered you tonight; from now on you must rely on prudence. You must never come near the forest—particularly not on a night like this! The dangers far exceed your understanding or defensive capabilities. I have interfered with human lives, against my herd's customs and against my own good sense—but I judged the situation critical."

The creature had tipped its gaze skyward and was addressing the sky, seemingly pleading with it. "One monster in the forest is enough, never mind three! It was for the good of the forest dwellers! Have I wrongly interpreted the signs?" He turned in a circle, scanning the heavens from every angle. "Mars... Capricorn..."

He whirled suddenly, grabbed Severus by the shoulders, and scrutinized his face closely. Just as suddenly he released him and turned to crouch by Lily, fingering her red hair and frowning. He straightened up. "No, I was correct... But this, the two of you—it does not bode well."

"Well, obviously," snapped Severus. The centaur paid no attention to the interruption.

"There is a veil on your future, clouds in your skies..." He lapsed into a worried silence, gazing at the sky for guidance.

Severus profited from the lull to examine Lily. She wasn't physically hurt, she had only fainted. While the centaur stood counting stars and fretting, Severus dragged Lily close to the lake and splashed water on her face.

The centaur laid a hand on Severus' shoulder and turned him round.

"You are safe now. It will not leave the forest. But you must promise me two things—swear, swear by Mars that you will never return to the forest when the skies are graced by this light," he gestured overhead in a sweeping arc, "and that you will _never_ breathe to a soul that it was I who saved you. Swear—and for the girl, too!"

He leaned in very close and watched Severus as he promised for himself and Lily. Satisfied, the centaur said, "Then I can depart. Remember your oath!"

He wheeled and galloped away, back into the Dark Forest.

Severus stared after him for a long time as the weight of the warnings slowly set in.

"..._on a night like this..."_

"_One monster in the forest is enough, never mind three!"_

"..._when the skies are graced by this light..."_

Lily stirred weakly. She groaned weakly and opened her eyes.

"Snape?"

His trance broken, he looked down at her and said what was on his mind. "Wolves travel in packs."

"What?"

" 'One monster in the forest is enough,' " he muttered.

_That was no ordinary wolf_, he thought. _It was a _werewolf_. That's why the centaur wanted me to swear we would never come back during the full moon._

"What are you talking about?"

Severus looked away so she wouldn't see the realization dawning in his eyes. "Nothing."

"How did we get out here?" Lily asked, turning her head to gaze at the lake. She remembered suddenly. "The centaur—the wolf—_Ned_!" She tried to sit up, pulling weakly on his arm to drag herself upright.

"Shh, Evans."

Lily stared into the woods. "It's a miracle we escaped."

"Luck."

"But—Ned?"

Severus shook his head.

Lily began to weep softly into her hands.

"Are you crying for Ned?" Severus asked.

"No."

And, unasked, it all poured out with the tears: she was crying for all of it, for the whole terrible night—the mean trick she'd played on Filch to keep him busy with Peeves all night; the sneaking out of the castle; the loss of Ned, certainly, and his terrible fate as _their _substitute in the wolf's stomach—but mostly she was crying because of her failure. She hadn't gotten Ned back. She hadn't even been able to tough out the forest; her fearless attitude had crumbled within minutes of entering the woods. She had even fainted.

"Well, welcome to my world," Severus said lamely. "Now _you _know what it's like to have let down your house."

Lily nodded sadly. "I let down my house, I let down Ned —but what's worse, I let myself down."

"Come on now, Ned's dying wasn't really your fault. In fact that's what saved us. He diverted the we- the wolf's attention long enough for us to escape."

Lily wiped her eyes and, amazingly, smiled. "Do you want to know what the worst part is?" she whispered. "I only know how to get out of the castle. I don't know how to get back in."


	9. Quidditch Match

"It's the first Quidditch match today," Rodolphus said to Severus at breakfast, early Sunday morning.

"I know," answered Severus, taking the ketchup from Rodolphus. "Slytherin versus Gryffindor. We're going to trounce them."

"And," Rodolphus went on in a low voice, "we've got only a week till Hallowe'en, and till Malfoy's meeting."

"I know," Severus whispered back. "We've got to find a passageway to Hogsmeade, and soon."

It seemed inconceivable that it had only been a week since Lily Evans had failed the Slytherins' dare. Fortunately for both houses, the incident had escaped the notice of Filch and the teachers, though Severus and Lily had spent a terrifying, seemingly never-ending stretch of time hiding in the shrubs near the front door, waiting for dawn for Filch to unlock the doors. In the end it was Rodolphus who, after waiting several hours in the Slytherin common room enjoying an unhealthy diet of fingernails, had come up and let them in through a ground-floor window.

"Don't tell me you've never seen a Quidditch match, Petula!" Bellatrix was exclaiming nearby, looking aghast.

Petula shrugged apologetically, drawing back one long golden braid from where it was trying to trail into her porridge. "My parents aren't really Quidditch fans."

"Oh, it's exhilarating!" Rodolphus said. "We've all been following Quidditch since we knew how to read. You'll love it, Petula—by the end of today's game, I warrant, you'll be writing home to your parents to beg for a broom for Christmas." Petula still looked dubious.

People were still filtering into the Great Hall in varying states of bleariness. Severus spotted Potter coming in with Lupin and waving to Black and Pettigrew, already seated at the Gryffindor table at the opposite end of the hall. As they passed the Slytherin table, Potter's gaze alit on Severus. His face hardened with hatred, but he did not have a chance to act on his obviously violent intentions, as Lupin had caught his sleeve and was steering him away.

As they passed the other tables Potter was greeted with surreptitious congratulations—the air of daring conferred on him by the attack on Filch had still not faded, and his and Black's popularity seemed sealed. Black, apparently the stupider of the two, accepted people's mislaid admiration without question. But Potter, though he never outright claimed his innocence, had clearly not lost sight of the fact that he and Black were not actually responsible, that they were being framed, nor of the fact that their detention with Filch was quickly approaching. So far Severus had managed to avoid being close to Potter in class—close enough to hex, that is—but he knew his luck wouldn't last. Potter would get revenge.

"Morning, Malfoy," Rodolphus said as Lucius Malfoy sat down at the table.

"Good morning," said Malfoy brightly, looking unusually cheery. He was already wearing his dark green Quidditch robes. "Coming to the match?"

"Of course!" said Rodolphus.

"Good," Malfoy said, grabbing a plate of sausages, "because we're going to _pulverize_ Gryffindor today!"

Before the match, the stadium was packed, and the crowds were rumbling in anticipation. Severus climbed the stands with Rodolphus, Bellatrix, and Petula. They were all wearing their silver and green scarves and waving Slytherin pennants.

"I bet you a Galleon we'll win by at least a hundred points," Severus said to Rodolphus.

"I bet it's by a hundred and fifteen," Rodolphus said, grinning, "and let's make it five Galleons." They shook hands.

A cry rang out from below. "Hey _Snivellus_!"

The Slytherins looked up sharply to see Potter and his gang climbing the stands towards them.

Severus cursed quietly. "Don't fight, please," Petula whispered fiercely in his ear as the Gryffindors moved past them and settled into the row directly behind.

"I'm not making any promises," Severus whispered back.

"Why Snivellus, fancy meeting you here," said Potter, with thinly veiled menace in his voice. "That really was a lovely turn you did us the other day." Black wasn't listening; he was engaged in conversation with a pair of third-year Ravenclaw girls.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Severus said.

Potter laughed. "Don't you?" he said, his eyes flashing. "Well it certainly doesn't take someone of, say, Lestrange's genius to figure out who framed us for sneaking round."

"_Lestrange's_ genius, ha!" cried Pettigrew, looking delighted.

Rodolphus reddened and shot back, with barely restrained venom, "At least I've got enough honour to not copy off my friends, Pettigrew."

It was Pettigrew's turn to blush.

"Don't worry, Snivellus," Potter hissed, "we'll pay you back twice over for what you did."

"Stop it," came a voice from further down Severus' row. Lily Evans' fiery head came into view from behind other spectators. "You've already lost us fifty points and got detentions with Filch, aren't you in enough trouble already?"

"This is none of your business, Evans," Potter growled.

"Professor Astaroth is sitting just a few rows down," Lily went on. Severus glanced down, and sure enough, there was Astaroth's veined scalp stretched thinly over the bulbous skull with its tufts of white hair. He shivered.

Lily's eyes darted briefly to Severus, who felt heat rise to his cheeks and they both looked away. For the past week they had carefully avoided each other. Since the night of the dare there had been something strange and unspeakably sad between them. Neither of them seemed to know how to make it go away.

"This doesn't concern you," Pottter said to Lily. "But if we're going to talk about _losing _things for our house-"

Lily turned bright red. A week had done little to ease the disgrace of failing Maud's dare. Severus had been lauded among his housemates, and it seemed Lily had received the opposite treatment among hers.

Diplomatically Lupin changed the subject. "Nice view up here," he said loudly.

"Yes, if you can see round the Slytherins' great big heads," Black replied. He jabbed Bellatrix's spine with his knee. "Budge up there, will you Bella?"

"You're the one with the big head, Black," Rodolphus snarled.

Black burst out laughing. "Sorry, Lestrange, forgot you're in love with her, I'll stop teasing your sweetheart if you ask me nicely!"

Both Bellatrix and Rodolphus started to jump up, red-faced, but Petula grabbed their arms and pleaded, "Forget him! We mustn't get into more trouble…"

"Swipe's the only one with any sense over there," Lily Evans said loudly, peering at them around the backs of her friends. They ignored her.

"Yes, wouldn't want to get your temper up, Bella," Black said mockingly. "Been taking your medication lately, haven't you? Because I certainly wouldn't want you expelled for your little tantrums."

"One more word, Sirius," breathed Bellatrix, "and I promise I'll take this pennant and-"

"And here they are!" came the bellow of Ludovic Bagman, a fourth-year who was commenting on the match with the aid of a magical megaphone. Bellatrix's next words were drowned out by the roars of the crowds, but Severus saw that Black, who was sitting just behind her, went slightly pale.

"Slytherin's coming out first-" All the Slytherin spectators cheered. Potter booed ostentatiously. "And here's the Gryffindor team!"

All the players zoomed up and down the pitch, to the bellows and applause of the crowds. Severus spotted Malfoy, the captain of the Slytherin team, blowing a kiss to Narcissa Black, who was waving a pennant and laughing.

"The captains come together to shake hands," Bagman blared, "and today we have the magnificent Madam Hooch as referee. There's the whistle, she throws the Quaffle into the air—Malfoy's got it now—there he goes, off like a shot! A pass to Blackadder, Blackadder to—oh, Gryffindor's Jones has taken the Quaffle! Pass to Vance, back to Jones, Jones shoots—no, it's been saved by the Slytherin Keeper! No score yet!"

"Fluke," scoffed Potter. They ignored him.

"Slytherin in possession—look out Malfoy, the Bludger! It's just missed him. Malfoy passes to Farrow—Vance intercepts—Vance gets a Bludger to the face! Nice hit, Jugson! Vance is bleeding quite badly—will Gryffindor be able to continue?"

"Two minutes in and they give up?" Severus said loudly. "Some team!"

"Vance is up again," announced Bagman as the Chaser got to her feet, having performed a charm on herself to stop the bleeding. "The match is resumed!"

"Poor Slytherin can't win on their own, they've got to resort to cheating," sneered Black.

"That was a perfectly fair hit!" Rodolphus snapped, wheeling angrily. "You Gryffindors just don't know how to fly!"

"Malfoy scores!" Bagman yelled. "Ten points to Slytherin!" Only Petula, Pettigrew and Lupin were listening to him anymore, and that was with some effort on their part. Severus, Rodolphus and Bellatrix were all twisted round in their seats, having a shouting match with Black and Potter.

"It's not our fault your team's rubbish this year," hissed Potter. "Making Malfoy captain—only mad old Astaroth could make a stupid decision like that!"

"He's not mad," Rodolphus snapped, "he's brilliant! You only hate him because you're all doing appallingly in his class!"

"You're one to talk," scoffed Black, "you're getting threes and fours on your essays and that's _with_ his favour! It's time to face facts, Lestrange, you're daft as a brush!"

Rodolphus went utterly still. "What did you say?" he said in a low voice.

"Sorry, was I speaking too fast for you?" Black sneered, grinning. "You're stupid!"

Severus happened to blink at that moment, and when his eyelids came back up Rodolphus was already kneeling on Black's chest, the two boys a whirl of fists and expletives. Potter started to grab for Rodolphus but Severus was on his feet in half a second, his wand raised. "_Redu_-"

"Don't even try it!" Potter snarled, taking a hard swing at Severus.

And as if time had slowed down, Severus saw Potter's fist moving through the air, ever so slowly, directly into the path of his swishing wand. CRACK—in a moment Severus was left holding half a wand, which was spitting yellow sparks, and Potter was standing frozen with his clenched fist still hovering in front of him, and a horrified look on his face.

"Your wand!" Bellatrix shrieked, staring at it.

In another moment there was nothing left in Severus' hand but a little pile of ashes.

"Oh—Sev, I'm so sorry, I can't help it, you _know_ I can't!"

Potter was still standing as if paralyzed. Severus quietly stepped over the flailing fracas of Rodolphus and Black and did what he'd wanted to do to Potter for a long time: punched him hard, right between the eyes.

Potter's glasses broke at the bridge; the two pieces fell to the floor with the other half of Severus' wand; and, clearly only barely able to see at all, Potter roared in rage and threw himself at Severus.

Petula, Pettigrew and Lupin were rooted to the spot, too shocked to move, but Bellatrix immediately joined the fray, a tempest of clawing nails and biting teeth. At one point she missed Potter and slashed Severus across the cheek, leaving behind a set of red bloody tracks.

But he hardly felt it, nor did he mind Potter's blows; they were both much weaker than Septimus Snape, to whose violent slaps and fists Severus had grown accustomed. He pursued with single-minded determination his objective of putting black bruises round Potter's hazel eyes, barely flinching as Potter split his lip, smeared the blood from Bellatrix's accidental slap across his cheeks-

"Stop!" Lily Evans cried.

She grabbed a handful of Potter's robes and tried to pull him off Severus. But her impetus was reversed as the two boys rolled over, still fighting obliviously, and she was yanked into the tumult with a shriek.

"Get _off_, Evans, this is no catfight!" grunted Potter as he found his arm pinned under her knee. Lily's frightened face darkened with outrage and she slapped him hard across the face, and the momentary look of satisfaction that followed told Severus she had been wanting to do that for a long time, too. The slap stunned Potter long enough for Severus to get a good grip on his throat…

Suddenly a burning white ball of light wedged itself between Severus, Lily and Potter and exploded, blasting them apart. In another moment a second ball of light introduced itself into the midst of Rodolphus, Black and Bellatrix, and they were all cast down as well.

The six of them lay sprawled across their seats, bruised, bleeding, and gasping for breath, as Professor Astaroth loomed over them. Severus nearly choked on the blood filling his mouth when he saw the wrathful look on his Head of House's already ghoulish face.

He spoke very, very quietly, but his words were not lost even in the sudden roar that erupted as Bagman announced another goal for Slytherin.

"All six of you," Astaroth said softly, "will come with me. _Now_."


	10. Payback

They were in no state to argue. They dragged themselves to their feet and followed Professor Astaroth down the stairs and out of the stadium, which was still full of the shouts and cheers of the spectators, most of whom had not noticed the altercation.

Severus hoped that Astaroth wasn't planning to punish his own Slytherins. Admittedly Rodolphus had started the fight by leaping on Black, but Black had been provoking him, and very cruelly. He'd brought on his own beating!

A glance at Black's face told Severus that Bellatrix had been particularly nasty to her cousin; his face bore several red stripes, none of them deep, but all trickling blood down his cheeks that he made no attempt to stem. For his part, Rodolphus was limping pronouncedly.

Severus became aware then of a warm wetness trickling down his front and raised a hand to touch his slick neck, and was astounded to discover his fingertips were stained in his own blood, dripping, apparently, from his nose, his split lip, and the three long gashes across his cheeks. He hadn't even known he'd had this much blood in him. Lily Evans glanced at him and then didn't seem to be able to look away. The horror on her face was really quite unsettling.

Astaroth silently led them back to the castle, the roar of the crowds in the Quidditch stadium gradually fading with the distance. They climbed staircase after staircase to the seventh floor, finally reaching his office, where he held the door for them and then slammed it with a loud bang. They all jumped. Astaroth walked slowly behind his desk and leaned over it towards them.

"_Who_," he demanded, his effeminate voice reaching a dangerously high pitch, "_is responsible for this_?"

Had it been any other teacher, they would all have started talking at once and blamed each other; but Astaroth was one of those very daunting teachers whom it is really much wiser to _not_ answer in such a situation, no matter whose Head of House he may be. 'Splenetic' did not even begin to describe his ire at its greatest point, which they were witnessing now. Despite the many times he had carefully overlooked Severus and Rodolphus' participation in pranks on the Gryffindors, he was still a teacher.

But even when he slammed his fist down on the desktop, they all remained silent. Severus had the bizarre thought that, were Astaroth's bones not held together by his sallow white skin, they would surely have splintered apart with the impact.

Astaroth dropped two pairs of spectacles over his violet eyes and glared at Potter. "You must have been the one started it all," he said harshly. "Always looking for trouble, aren't you? That's how you get your," his thin lips peeled back in a sneer, "_kicks_?"

Potter was holding the two pieces of his broken glasses together at his temples, though they were clearly useless, as both lenses had shattered. Severus felt a surge of grim pleasure to see bruises already darkening around Potter's eyes. Potter flushed slightly but refused to reply. Astaroth rounded on Black.

"And you, Black, Potter's faithful sidekick, what do you have to say for yourself? Pleased as punch to have implicated all these normally upright students in your brawling?"

He brusquely gestured to the Slytherins. Rodolphus looked astonished to have been included in his sweeping wave.

"It wasn't enough for you to ambush Mr. Filch in the dead of night, was it Black?" The reddening of Black's cheeks was visible even through the streams of blood. "Had to take it a step further? Well, this is _too far_! Attacking Mr. Filch, attacking fellow students—you could get suspended for this, you know." Potter stared fixedly at the floor.

But Severus' initial belief that Astaroth would go easier on them for being Slytherin was dispelled when the violet eyes leaped to him.

"But don't think I can leave you out this time," he growled, his eyes flitting from Severus to Rodolphus to Bellatrix. "Like idiots you lost your heads. Fighting at a Quidditch match—_disgraceful_!" he shouted suddenly, smashing his fist into the desk again.

The loud bang made them all cringe. Lily Evans let slip the tiniest whimper of fear—by her horrified look, she hadn't meant to do it.

Instantly Astaroth was distracted. His voice took a syrupy quality as he stood and leaned over his desk till his nose was three inches from hers.

"Ah, Miss Evans, of course. I thought you were due for an incident of disobedience. I haven't had the great fortune to punish you, but sometimes Fate turns benevolent! And for a transgression of no lesser magnitude than brawling! There are so many options: house points, weeks of detention, a day's suspension..."

His purple eyes sparkled with spite, but to her credit Lily did not quake. Indeed, she outright refused to look at Astaroth, keeping her eyes on her shoes.

"Did you hear me?" Astaroth shouted, but Lily stayed motionless. Her hair had been mussed in the tussle. Severus thought it looked like a fiery nimbus set about her pale sullen face.

"The only question now is," Astaroth roared, infuriated by their continued silence, "who shall I tell the Headmaster was the instigator: Potter, Black, or Evans?"

"Evans was trying to stop us."

Severus wondered who had spoken. It took him a moment to realize that it was him.

All present turned and stared at him, except Lily, whose gaze remained fixed on the floor. "What?" Astaroth asked icily.

"Evans didn't do anything," Severus said flatly. Of course she had, she'd slapped Potter round the face. Her avoidance of everyone's eyes indicated quite clearly that she was ashamed to have let herself lash out at a housemate, but that she was steeling herself to accept the consequences.

Yet he was remembering the incident with the giant squid, how he had tipped the boat and she had claimed it wasn't his fault. She had saved him from embarrassment and in return he had helped to disgrace her in the eyes of her housemates. He was shocked to find he was _ashamed _for having humiliated her. He had suddenly found a name for the mysterious awkwardness between them: _empathy_. Now they both knew what it was like to be an object of ridicule, and it was his fault. Well, now he would make things right. "She was trying to stop us," he said shortly.

Astaroth flipped down two more pairs of spectacles onto his nose, and stared hard at Severus through six layers of glasses. For a moment Severus feared he was going to start shouting again, but then the violet gaze was arrested by his hands. "Your wand, Snape?"

Severus looked down at his hands, in which were clutched the remnants of his wand: a streak of ashes stuck to his sweaty palm, and the broken tip, which he had rescued from the floor in a moment of grief. He was not even certain whether wands could be replaced, so here he felt no compunction for naming the perpetrator. "Potter broke it."

This unleashed a flood of dissent from Potter. "It was self-defense, Professor! He was trying to curse me!"

"So you broke his wand?" Astaroth said loudly, shouting over Potter. "Breaking someone's wand is not considered self-defense on any grounds! You could be expelled for this!" Potter's face drained of colour and he fell silent.

"A wizard's wand is his greatest weapon, his closest friend, his _only _protection!" Astaroth thundered, grabbing the front of Potter's robes and dragging him close. "You had no right to snap it out of sheer _malice_! You can look forward to going home tomorrow, you filthy little-"

"CHRYSOGONUS!" bellowed a voice. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

They all looked round wildly as emerald flames suddenly sprang up from the fireplace and Professor McGonagall climbed out. Severus had never seen her so angry. Her eyes were nearly bulging out of her head and she was white around the nose. She must have just come from the Quidditch match when she'd noticed they were all gone—she still carried a Gryffindor pennant in one hand.

"Minerva," Astaroth said slowly, his hot rage turning frigid as she strode towards his desk.

He released Potter's robes and the boy jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding being shoved aside by the livid Professor McGonagall. She planted herself in front of Astaroth's desk and slapped both hands on the desktop.

"Chrysogonus, what is the meaning of this?"

"I am disciplining students," Astaroth snarled, "who were fighting at the Quidditch match."

"These three are Gryffindors," McGonagall said coldly, gesturing to Potter, Black and Lily Evans. "Why did you not call me immediately?"

"I was trying to determine which students started the fight," Astaroth said, equally icy.

"Completely impartially, I'm sure," McGonagall said sarcastically.

"So you doubt my abilities as a teacher?" Astaroth asked, becoming angry again. The students were completely forgotten. Rodolphus kept shooting Severus terrified glances.

"You could say that."

"Oh, wonderful! The truth emerges at last! Please, continue to undermine my authority, you're doing a _stupendous_ job!"

"Chrysogonus, you seem to think that your long career with the Ministry entitles you to prerogatives that none of the teachers here have! I understand that at the Ministry you once had sweeping powers, but you cannot simply waltz in here and brutalize students as you used to do with the felons you captured! The Ministry may have lost control but here we are not-"

"Lost control? The Ministry?" Astaroth interrupted incredulously. "What you're saying borders on _sedition_, Minerva! What would the Minister of Magic say if he heard such insurrectionary remarks had come from a Hogwarts teacher?"

"Bartemius Crouch?" McGonagall said with a snort. "What, is he going to accuse me of high treason? You must know it was only as a personal favour to your precious Minister that Dumbledore took on an ageing, _mad _retired Auror!"

"I have had an _illustrious _career! I was catching Dark wizards before you were _born_!"

Now they were nose to nose, screaming at each other, their faces suffused with rage.

"You're an Auror, Chrysogonus, not a teacher, and you never will be a teacher until you _learn_ what teaching is!"

"You're so clever, why don't you teach both subjects then!" bellowed Astaroth.

"Well, why don't we just ask Albus if I can, then at least we'll all be rid of you!" roared McGonagall.

"You could ask me," Dumbledore said calmly from the doorway, "but my answer would be no."

Both teachers recoiled and nearly fell over in their shock. "Albus!" gasped Astaroth, clutching his chest. "How did you find us?"

"Oh, I was only in the Great Hall when I heard raised voices," Dumbledore said mildly. "Seven floors is not so far to sprint. Would someone like to tell me what this is about?"

The two teachers looked very embarrassed. McGonagall seemed to come back to her senses, and she said stiffly, "Professor Astaroth found these first years fighting at the Quidditch match and brought them to his office for punishment. However, he failed to notify me, although half the students belong to my house."

"It slipped my mind," snarled Astaroth.

"I'm sure it must have fallen right out while you were busy screaming at them and threatening them with expulsion!" McGonagall shot back.

Dumbledore peered at the six students over his half-moon spectacles. His blue eyes had lost their usual amused twinkle. "Fighting?"

Severus was uncertain of whether he could jump in and blame Black for starting the brawl, but Potter said quickly, "Lestrange attacked Black, Professor."

"He was provoked," Bellatrix interrupted.

"It's true, he said some very offensive things," Rodolphus put in.

"I did nothing of the sort!" fumed Black.

"You did too, you liar!" Lily snapped.

"Potter broke my wand," Severus said.

Dumbledore's eyes instantly fastened upon him. Severus held out the tip. Dumbledore nodded. "And the rest of it?"

Severus held out the hand with the smear of ash. The Headmaster frowned. "I see."

"Perhaps," McGonagall said wearily, "perhaps you could help with their punishments, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "If you insist…"

"Not Evans," Severus said quickly. "She was trying to stop us." He wondered if he was overdoing it by repeating himself, but if she was punished for this he'd have to think of another good turn to do to repay her.

"Very well," Dumbledore said, looking mildly curious. "On the word of your classmate, Miss Evans, you may leave." Lily Evans hurried from the room, head down.

Dumbledore surveyed the remaining students' injuries. "Twenty points from Slytherin and Gryffindor. And one night's detention each. And, Mr. Potter, I would like you to pay to replace Mr. Snape's wand."

"Fine," Potter said shortly. He pulled out a satchel of coins and thrust it at Snape.

"But," Dumbledore continued, "while we are on the subject of destruction..." He took Severus' wrist and held the ash-smeared hand out to Bellatrix, who instantly looked wary. "Miss Lestrange, I assume this is your doing?"

She nodded uneasily.

"I was under the impression that your attendance at Hogwarts was contingent on your taking medication to control this problem. If it continues, I will be forced to remove you from the school until you are cured. Please do not let your treatment lapse." Bellatrix nodded again, quickly.

Dumbledore at last gave a thin smile. "I trust that it would not be asking too much for a collective apology to Professor Astaroth and Professor McGonagall for upsetting them?"

He waited while the first years mumbled, "I'm sorry, Professors," then said quietly, "I do not want to know how it all began. I only want you to promise that we never have to deal with such a situation again. Mr. Snape, I will owl Mr. Ollivander, the wand-maker, and ask him to come here to fit you for a new wand.

"That is all; you may leave." His eyes strayed to their bleeding faces. "And I suggest that some of you pay a visit to Madam Pomfrey."

He turned to the two teachers. "Now Minerva, Chrysogonus, perhaps we ought to have a chat as well."

The first years half-ran from the room, and found Lily Evans slumped against the wall outside. She straightened up when she saw them. "You're lucky we didn't all get expelled!"

"_You_'re lucky Snape stood up for you," Rodolphus sneered.

Severus glared at Lily. "We're even now—but stay out of my business from now on!"

"Believe me, Snivellus," Lily said frostily, "if I ever see you again, it will be twenty million years too soon." She stalked off.

"You're _dead_, Snivellus," Potter hissed, jabbing a finger in Severus' face before he and Black spun and stormed after Evans. They passed Petula and Maud, who were racing towards the Slytherins.

"Merlin's beard, look at your faces!" Maud said in amazement. "We'd better get out of here fast, before Filch figures out who's bleeding all over his nice clean floors."

"Won't the trail of blood tip him off?" Severus muttered.

"I need to pick up my medication from Madam Pomfrey," Bellatrix said shamefacedly. "I don't want to be expelled."

"Oh, Bella," sighed Petula, as she and Maud led Bellatrix away.

Rodolphus was bent by the door, frowning intently. "I'd kill to hear what Dumbledore's saying to McGonagall and Astaroth, but he must've put an Imperturbable Charm or something on the door. Just imagine what-"

He was interrupted by a hysterical explosion from round the corner.

"WHAT IS _THIS_?" screamed Filch.

Rodolphus and Severus jumped and stared at each other.

"_BLOOD_? WHO IS _BLEEDING _ALL OVER THE CASTLE?" Filch roared. Mrs. Norris agreed with an outraged yowl.

Without a word both boys bolted in the opposite direction of Filch's strident voice.

"My God, he'll kill us!" whimpered Rodolphus, attempting to stem the blood still trickling from his nose.

"At least Potter and Black are bleeding more than us, maybe Filch'll follow their trail instead of ours," Severus responded grimly.

His eyes rove the corridor as he ran, seeking a hiding place. A giant vase—they wouldn't both fit in there. A window—seven storeys wasn't such a long drop, was it?

Then he spotted a door across from a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. "In here!"

He wrenched open the polished door, yanked Rodolphus in after him, and slammed the door.


	11. Mad Filch

They were jammed in a tiny, dusty, cobwebbed broom cupboard. Rodolphus gripped Severus' shoulder tightly.

In the narrow shaft of light spilling stab through the keyhole, Severus discerned strange shapes on the door. He reached out and discovered that the broom closet was equipped with no less than five deadbolts. Quickly he locked them all; then each boy held his breath as Filch's footfalls pounded outside.

"Where do you think they went?" Filch asked his cat. "Hey—Mrs. Norris! Mrs. Norris, stop that!"

Rodolphus' fingers dug painfully into Severus' shoulder as kitten-claws scratched at the door. Severus was miserably aware that he was unarmed.

"No, Mrs. Norris! Bad girl!"

Filch came up to the door and scooped up his kitten. Severus felt weak. A mere inch of wood stood between him and death by evisceration.

"Bad kitty, look what you've done!" scolded Filch. "You've scratched up the polish!"

Mrs. Norris mewled angrily. "Mrs. Norris, I am hunting down a group of fighting vandals, I don't have time to stop and get your cat food out of there again! You'll just have to wait until we catch and punish these delinquents." Severus and Rodolphus exchanged looks of puzzlement. This was a broom cupboard, not a cat food pantry.

"I'll have to come back later to polish up the door again," Filch said mournfully. "Let's go, I think they went this way."

Severus waited a full minute after the sounds of Filch's heavy footsteps and his kitten's famished yowls had faded away before unlocking the door and falling onto the floor in the corridor. "_On l'a échappé belle_," Rodolphus sighed in relief.

"That was a close shave," Severus agreed, massaging his shoulder. "Filch must be losing his marbles—cat food in a broom cupboard, honestly. Let's go to the infirmary, I think you broke my collarbone."

"No, let's go to the kitchens. I want to get cleaned up, and I could do with a spot of tea." Rodolphus touched a darkening bruise on his cheek and winced.

They staggered downstairs to the portrait of the bowl of fruit and tickled the green pear to enter the kitchens. The house-elves squealed, at first in shock to their injuries, then in excitement when they recognized Severus. They installed the two Slytherins on a hearth-rug at the fireside and set about feeding them and cleaning the blood from their wounds.

"Two lumps," Severus said to the house-elf who was putting sugar in his tea. "Ouch!" He flinched as another elf, who was working on washing his face with a damp tea-towel, touched upon a sore spot.

"Scrimper is sorry, sir," apologized the elf. "Was you badly hurt in the fight?"

"No," Severus sighed, "it's just a little blood." He gave a feeble laugh. "Those Gryffindors can't hit half as hard as my father."

"Is it the Gryffindors who is troubling you?" enquired Scrimper, and turning to the elf who was tending to Rodolphus' injuries, he said, "They was here just a moment ago, wasn't they, Biddy?"

Rodolphus bolted upright, nearly impaling his eye on Biddy's long nose. "They was here? I mean, they were here?"

"They is leaving long before you comes," Biddy said soothingly, holding out a plate of chocolate éclairs. "The masters Lupin and Pettigrew, they is only asking for a nibble before dinner," she added, pointing to the other house-elves, who were hurrying about making dinner. "You is hungry for stoat pie, sir?" she asked Severus hopefully. "We is baking a big plate, sir, just for the Slytherin table."

"Yeah, I'll eat it all at dinner," Severus agreed wearily, and Scrimper and Biddy brightened.

"Hurry up, still lots to do!" one of the house-elves called above the general din. "Still dinner to cook, robes to be washed and pressed, fires to be stoked in the common rooms!"

"Where is you both getting so dusty?" Biddy enquired, peeling a cobweb out of Rodolphus' hair.

"Broom cupboard on the seventh floor, the one with all the deadbolts," Severus said. "We were running from Filch."

"There isn't any broom cupboard on the seventh floor," Scrimper objected. "Perhaps you is meaning the Room of Requirement? It changes to fit your needs. If you was running from Mr. Filch, you would be seeking a hiding place, yes? Then it makes itself a broom cupboard that locks from the inside."

"And if you were a hungry kitten," Severus said slowly, "then it would be full of cat food! Perhaps Filch isn't so mad after all."

"Say, you must know everything about the castle," Rodolphus said to the house-elves.

They nodded eagerly. "We is knowing all Hogwarts' secrets!" Scrimper boasted.

"So you'd know whether there were any secret passageways to, say, _Hogsmeade_?" Rodolphus pressed.

"Oh, plenty, sir," Scrimper beamed, "there is one behind Gregory the Smarmy, and one behind the mirror on the fourth floor-"

"Eh?" Severus said, sitting up with interest.

"Scrimper!" Biddy hissed urgently, looking fearful. "I is thinking you oughts not to be talking about this! What if they is leaving the castle and getting into more troubles?"

"Shut up!" Rodolphus said to her, but Scrimper looked ashamed.

"I is sorry, sir," he squeaked contritely, "but Biddy is right, I oughts to keep quiet."

"It's all right, Scrimper, we oughts- er, we really should be going now," Severus said, with a pacifying glance at Rodolphus.

They finished their tea and departed, trying to look nonchalant. They were both brimming with anticipation, though, and the moment the portrait closed behind them they said at once, "Mirror on the fourth floor!"

"At least we got something out of those pathetic creatures," Rodolphus said happily.

They heard cheering and stamping feet above their heads in the Entrance Hall; and over the commotion they discerned Bagman's voice, still yelling the final score as the students all tramped back into the school. "Slytherin 210, Gryffindor 80!"

"You lucky sod!" Severus laughed as he dug out two gold Galleons and handed them to Rodolphus.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two nights later, when they had recovered from their injuries, Rodolphus convinced Severus, against his better judgment, to sneak out of the common room again. By some miracle they did not meet Filch once as they slipped through the empty corridors to the fourth floor, where they soon found the mirror Scrimper had mentioned. It was as wide as two men standing shoulder to shoulder, and almost high enough to touch the ceiling.

However, they had neglected to question Scrimper as to how to open the mirror, and their vigorous efforts to pry the frame from the wall were in vain.

Rodolphus slumped against the mirror in despair. "It's hopeless! We'll have to go back to the kitchens and ask them again."

"Wait!" Severus hissed. Although Rodolphus was not moving, he had just seen the reflection straighten up and turn to look directly at Severus. The reflection mouthed a word and smiled.

"_Referio_?" Severus repeated. To his shock his own reflection began to fade, and before he knew what was happening he found himself alone and plunged into blackness.

"Sev?" he heard Rodolphus cry frantically, his voice muffled. "Sev?"

"Shh!" Severus hissed. "I think the mirror reflected me behind it."

"That doesn't make sense," Rodolphus said plaintively.

"It's magic, it doesn't have to," Severus answered, fumbling in the darkness. The walls were rough, except one smooth one, which he guessed must be the back of the mirror. "Just say the word your reflection mouths at you."

"_Referio_," Rodolphus said tentatively, and in a moment Severus felt him materialize at his side in the dark.

"Weird," Rodolphus said. "_Lumos_."

They advanced behind the faint beam of wand-light. This passage had a narrow rickety staircase that spiralled straight down into the dark.

"_Merde_, it's filthy in here!" hissed Rodolphus, brushing cobwebs out of his face.

"No, that's a good sign, it means no one's been here in a long time," Severus whispered.

They descended slowly, carefully, at last reaching an earthen tunnel, wide and so low that they had to stoop. Severus was deathly afraid that they would meet Filch and Mrs. Norris in this passage. The remnants of his wand had been binned, so he wasn't armed, and he doubted he could rely on Rodolphus to save them. But to his relief the only sounds in the length of the passage were his and Rodolphus' shuffling and their hesitant breath.

At last the tunnel finished, at a blank stone wall with a rusty iron ladder. "You first," Rodolphus said, holding aloft his lit wand and peering up along the ladder.

Severus climbed the ladder, which creaked alarmingly but clung to its moorings. He squeezed through a narrow cylindrical shaft that ended very abruptly with a hard cover that bumped his head.

"Ow," he said in annoyance. Then it occurred to him to shift the cover, and he found himself sticking out of a rubbish bin by the side of the post office.

"We did it, Rodolphus!" he whispered down the shaft as he clambered out of the bin. "We made it to Hogsmeade!"

Though the hour was late there were still a few townspeople milling about, coming out of the Three Broomsticks down the road and the various other pubs and tea shops along the main street. Severus and Rodolphus could barely contain their excitement, but they had to be careful to stay in the shadows and make no noise.

The shops were all closed and dark; still, it gave Severus a thrill to be able to peer into the windows and see things he knew he wasn't officially meant to be seeing for another three years. Zonko's Joke Shop had a number of enthralling and undoubtedly very amusing gadgets on display. Gladrags' Wizardwear had brightly patterned socks that were doing a merry jig all by themselves in the window. Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop was showcasing a new line of sleek, beautiful quills, and owls periodically burst in and out of the windows of the post office with messages (and rats). Even in the middle of the night Hogsmeade was a fascinating place for two delinquent first years.

They peeked in everyone's windows and stared at drunkards in the street. At last Severus happened to notice where most of these inebriates were coming from: a small, dismal inn off on a side street, with a sign depicting a wild boar's severed head, staining crimson the white shroud around it.

"The Hog's Head," he whispered to Rodolphus.

They crept up to the pub and tried to peer inside, but the windows were oily and caked with many decades of grime. At that point Rodolphus checked his wristwatch and realized they had been out of bed for nearly two hours, and they had to run back to the secret passageway that took them back to the castle. But the constant yawns and dark-circled eyes that plagued them the next day were well worth the thrill of having discovered a way into Hogsmeade.


	12. Meeting the Death Eaters

The only problem now was, how to conceal themselves when they went into Hogsmeade to spy on Malfoy? 

But here, finally, came a piece of luck. For now Fate, which had been fairly absent these past few weeks, was now more than munificent to Severus and Rodolphus, and bestowed upon them an invaluable gift.

Rodolphus had buckled down and set himself to a Charms essay with determination, and with four hours of ardent research earned his first perfect ten out of ten. The next morning, which was Hallowe'en, only one day before Malfoy's secret appointment, a package arrived at the Slytherin table from Rodolphus' father. He ripped it open right at the table, but his face froze when he saw what was inside.

"What is it, Lestrange?" Bulstrode asked. "Is it something expensive?"

Rodolphus looked like he'd tried to stare down a Basilisk. But when Avery craned his neck to see into the box Rodolphus quickly flipped the cardboard flaps shut, seized Severus' arm, and dragged him and the package out of the Great Hall.

"Ouch! Let go!" Severus complained as Rodolphus yanked him into an empty classroom down the hall. "What's going on?"

Rodolphus slammed the door and turned to face him with shining eyes. "Sev, do you remember me saying my dad has an Invisibility Cloak?"

"Yes." Severus cottoned on. His jaw dropped. "_No_…"

Rodolphus nodded. "Guess who has it now?" He grinned as he slowly opened the package and drew out a beautiful, shimmering cloak of the sheerest material they had ever seen. Severus was struck dumb. He reached out and stroked it gently.

"It's like a mirror," he murmured in awe, "a liquid mirror."

Rodolphus threw the cloak round his shoulders and vanished.

"Rodolphus!" Severus jumped up in surprise and began to move between the desks, waving his arms at chest height. "Rodolphus!"

A blow landed. "Ow," said Rodolphus, tugging off the hood. His disembodied head grinned at Severus. "Try it on," he invited, casting the Invisibility Cloak over Severus' head. Severus looked down at his body.

"My feet—my legs! I can't see my body! This is fantastic!"

"And it couldn't have come at a better time," Rodolphus agreed, looking off to Severus' left. "Malfoy won't be able to see us in this!"

"I can't believe your father really gave it to you," Severus whispered enviously, twirling in a circle. The cloak was smooth and fluid, lighter than air. He felt like a shadow. "Mine would never trust me with something so valuable as this. He wouldn't trust me to polish his pointed shoes."

"Yes, but _my_ father loves me," Rodolphus said. Severus gave considerable thought to punching Rodolphus in the stomach. "Aren't you glad my older brother's thick as two posts? Or else the cloak might have gone to him."

Severus suddenly flipped back the hood. "Are you telling me," he said incredulously as Rodolphus looked round at his floating head in surprise, "are you telling me that your father will simply hand these things out to any of his sons that can manage a mark of ten out of ten, just once?"

Rodolphus shrugged. "I've never had occasion to check that. Like I said, Rabastan's a real thicko, even stupider than I am, Dad's never had to give him any rewards, let alone anything so valuable as this. _Quelle chance, non_?"

"You spoiled brat!"

"Oh, Sev! He knows I'll take good care of it! Anyways aren't you glad I've got it? Now we can spy on Malfoy completely unnoticed. It's perfect!"

The bell rang and they heard people passing through the Entrance Hall. Severus reluctantly let the cloak spill back into the box, which Rodolphus folded up lovingly. Then they grinned at each other.

Rodolphus rubbed his hands together. "We're going to have such fun tomorrow!"

Hallowe'en was a whirlwind of candy, jack-o-lanterns, pranks and song. The Slytherin first years were amazed to find Rodolphus and Severus in the highest of spirits, reckless and unusually exuberant. In the evening the whole group gorged themselves on sweets until they were nearly sick. It was fortunate that the next day was Saturday, because in the morning Severus awoke feeling more terrible than the time he and Rodolphus had stolen a bottle of sherry from Septimus Snape's sideboard and snuck gulps during an elegant dinner party in honour of an important foreign dignitary.

They could hardly sit still all day. "Why are the pair of you so jittery?" Petula asked when she became exasperated with their sporadic giggles and their constant fidgeting. "We've all got homework to do, in case you'd both forgotten."

"_Somehow_ I don't think I'd be able to keep my mind on it," Severus replied, bouncing in his seat. The common room was almost empty, as many of the older Slytherins liked to make the most of their Hogsmeade weekends and spent much of the day in the village. Malfoy and Jugson were already gone, Severus noticed.

"What've you two got to be excited about?" Bellatrix asked suspiciously. She was playing chess with Maud Wilkes. "Check, Maud. And Severus, you're lying. You positively exist to read books and write long essays. Studying is your life."

"It is not," Severus said in annoyance. "It's not like I like to study."

The others groaned. "You _love_ to study!" said Bellatrix. "And you're infecting Rodolphus. Did he tell you he got a perfect ten on his Charms paper?"

"He might have mentioned it," Severus said casually. "If only I could infect _you _with homework-fever too, Belle, then we might all survive till second year."

"Fat chance," Bellatrix scoffed. "Rook to D-4." Her rook charged at Maud's king like a battering ram. "Checkmate, Maud!"

"Will you stop bouncing, Severus!" Petula cried, throwing down her quill. "Get out of here, both of you, I can't concentrate with your fidgeting! Out, out!"

Ollivander the wand-maker came to Hogwarts that morning to fit Severus for his new wand. He looked grim as he met Severus in the Great Hall with a tape measure and a parchment and quill.

"Your wand is your only weapon!" he scolded as his tape measure skittered across Severus' back, measuring the distance between his shoulder blades. "You've got to protect it—or else how will it protect you?"

Severus thought about telling Ollivander to make sturdier wands, but decided it wouldn't be wise to offend him. "Yeah," he said unenthusiastically, trying not to blink as the tape measure stretched across first one eyelid, then the other.

Professor Astaroth was present too. Severus learned Astaroth and Ollivander were old friends. "Mr. Ollivander and I came to Hogwarts together," he explained. "We were both prefects in our fifth year."

"Slytherin was never so well-run," Ollivander agreed absently. He had tossed his quill aside and was rummaging through a leather satchel. "Though I was quite offended by what _your _wand did, Chrys…"

"Past is past, Mr. Ollivander," Astaroth said, a bit tightly. "I suppose I was a bit more offended than you were, considering the wand came from your family's shop."

Ollivander glanced at him and smiled, shrugging, "We _explained _proper wand care to you. It's not our fault you forgot." He resumed his search. "Now where did I put that- I could have sworn I- but if it's not in the- aha!"

He produced a single long wand box, covered in dust. "Haven't had to use this in a while," he explained. Severus stared.

"Do you already know exactly which wand will fit me?"

"Mr. Snape, this is no ordinary wand box! It is strictly for emergencies. But now that you mention it, I don't recall fitting you for your first wand in the summer."

"No, my grandfather died in August and he left me his wand in his will. Hornbeam with a unicorn hair core."

"That doesn't sound familiar."

"It was a Gregorovitch."

"Ah! Well, I myself have never been fond of hornbeam. Too tough, too dry!"

Astaroth looked interested. "So you have only been functioning at half capacity for the past two months? Impressive, considering your academic achievement to this point…"

"Very well," said Ollivander, "now we shall see what you are capable of with a _properly_ fitted wand."

He pulled off the cover and took out a long red wand. "Try this one."

Severus waved the red wand a little, but nothing happened. "Didn't think so," muttered Ollivander thoughtfully, taking it and putting it back in the box. But no sooner had he popped the cover on than he was yanking it off again, eagerly, and handing Severus a wand—a different wand. "Mahogany, unicorn hair core, ten and three-quarter inches," Ollivander noted on his parchment. "Go on, give it a wave!"

Severus didn't like any of the next ten wands that came out of the box one after the other. But the twelfth wand! The twelfth wand filled him with a strange, sweet feeling, like he'd just swallowed a Sugar Quill whole. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling; just bizarre. "This is the one," he whispered.

"Yew, dragon heartstring, eight and a half inches," Ollivander said. "A fine wand. Let's see a Levitation Charm, then."

Severus managed, after a few moments, to lift the wand box into the air. "Excellent," Ollivander said approvingly, looking cheerfully satisfied.

"Excellent," murmured Astaroth. Severus didn't like how pleased his Head of House was looking. He paid Ollivander with Potter's money, thanked him, and ran off to find Rodolphus, trying to forget the look of smug elation on Astaroth's face.

At last Severus decided they could set out for Hogsmeade. At one-thirty they slipped out of the common room nonchalantly, the Invisibility Cloak stuffed up Rodolphus' sleeve. Their friends were arguing over whether a chess move Bellatrix had made was valid, and did not notice them leave. But they had just emerged from the dungeons when they heard the half-hysterical scream, "_SNAPE_!"

They wheeled swiftly and drew their wands as one. Bearing down upon them was Potter, with Black in tow. Severus stifled a laugh. Their hair stood on end and their eyes were wide in their unnaturally pale faces, in which the scars from their Quidditch skirmish had not faded. Never had the two looked more incensed—or at least, Potter did. Black simply seemed dumbstruck, his mouth hanging partly open.

Rodolphus took one look at them and doubled over with laughter.

"You're looking rather mad today, Potter," Severus commented. "Something amiss?"

"_FILCH_!" bellowed Potter, shoving Rodolphus aside to scream directly in Severus' face. Rodolphus was laughing too hard to object.

"Ah yes, the detention!" Severus said, pasting an expression of polite attentiveness on his face. "How was that?"

Black gave an indistinct yelp that might have been, "Ouch."

"You seem to be having trouble communicating today," Severus observed dryly. "Perhaps you'd like to continue this chat when you're better equipped for more complex thought processes. Shall we schedule a meeting for, say, ten or fifteen years from now?"

Potter seized Severus by the front of his robes and shook him roughly. "He _chained_ us up!" he roared, spittle flying in Severus' face. "TO THE CEILING!"

"I'll bet that hurt," Severus said calmly, wiping his cheeks. He gingerly took one of Potter's hands between two fingers and examined the purple bruises where Filch's manacles had chafed his wrist. "I hope that from now on you'll think twice about sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night."

Potter's red face twisted and he emitted a furious screech as he wrenched his wrist from Severus' grip.

"The rules are there for our safety," Severus continued in the same calm, amiable tone. "Filch can conjure his own strange devilries too, you know. I've heard that he can make a mysterious flame on the end of a little stick that he holds in his hand—you wouldn't want to upset a powerful man like that, even if he is only the caretaker."

"Is there a problem here?" squeaked Professor Flitwick from the top of the marble staircase. "Mr. Potter, please don't mangle Mr. Snape!"

Potter reluctantly released Snape.

"You'll regret framing us, Snivellus," he hissed. "We'll get you for this, I promise you!"

"We shall _bind _you to your word," Rodolphus choked out through his giggles. Potter threw him a murderous look, grabbed Black and stomped away.

They reached the fourth floor without further incident, reflected themselves through the mirror, negotiated the spiral staircase and the dark subterranean tunnel, then proceeded up the ladder and out of the rubbish bin. They were careful to throw the Cloak over themselves while still in the safety of the alley by the post office.

"Does it hide both of us completely?" Severus asked anxiously, turning this way and that, trying to see if any part of himself was visible.

"Stop worrying, Sev," Rodolphus said airily. "I assure you this cloak is perfectly ample. Let's go, we've but fifteen minutes till Malfoy's meeting with the Death Eaters."

It was easier to find their way through the village in daylight. It had been a dry week, for which Severus was very glad—it would have been a dead giveaway if there had been mud to leave their incorporeal footprints in.

They hurried up the path to the Hog's Head pub, making a concerted effort to ignore the charming new things in the lit-up shops' windows. They had the presence of mind to wait for someone to walk in or out the door first, to avoid attracting the barman's attention to an empty doorway. They did not have to wait long before a husky, cranky-looking man waddled past them and threw open the door, failing to see the two boys squeezing in after him.

The first thought that came to Severus' mind when they entered the pub was 'filthy'. The single room comprising the pub was tiny and dingy, and the floor felt like it was composed of layers and layers of grime, and the only light in the room came from the stubby candles that dripped wax on the dirty little tables. But what replaced his initial desire to set a dozen house-elves on the place was curiosity, because the clientele greatly piqued Severus' interest.

There were only about half a dozen people in the room. Most of the patrons hunched over the bar or seated at the tables were shapelessly swathed in cloaks or veils. Some were alone, like the ugly old witch hunched by the fireplace smoking a foul-smelling pipe, but several small groups of sinister-looking witches and wizards were talking quietly at the tables. Severus sniffed the air cautiously. Besides the witch's reeking pipe smoke he detected another fainter stench that put him in mind of—goats?

The hircine pub seemed to be an ideal site for clandestine appointments and underhanded dealings, for the air was full of furtive susurrations and Severus could almost feel the eyes that darted here and there and bored into the newcomer—the visible one, that is.

The barman, a tall, thin wizard with a long grey beard and a guarded expression, glanced up from the mug he was filling when the big man entered. Severus thought he looked vaguely familiar. The barman nodded as the beefy wizard ambled to the bar.

"The usual, Starkey?" asked the barman, sliding a huge glass of mulled mead across the counter without waiting for an answer.

He appeared oblivious to the two first years' presence, for after he served Starkey he simply began to wipe the countertop with a dishrag. Severus wondered briefly how effective this exercise could be, as the dishrag was dirtier than the counter.

"Want to see if we can steal a couple Butterbeers?" Rodolphus whispered.

"No!" hissed Severus. "Let's just hide—Malfoy and Jugson'll be here any minute."

Suddenly the door swung open behind them and they had to move swiftly to flatten themselves against the wall. In came Lucius Malfoy, looking more apprehensive than Severus had ever seen him. Behind him was burly Jugson, who was nervously wringing his hat out of shape.

"Good afternoon," Malfoy said to the barman. The old wizard simply kept scouring the counter with his filthy rag and scowled wordlessly at Malfoy.

"Er, two Butterbeers, please," said Malfoy uncertainly. The barman slowly reached under the counter and produced two very dusty bottles.

"Two Sickles," he grunted. The seventh years paid him quickly and made a beeline for the table furthest from the bar.

Severus and Rodolphus followed silently and ducked under the table. Jugson's big foot narrowly missed Severus' elbow as he crouched in the dirt. The dense pink fumes from the old witch's pipe were low-lying, and trickled across the floor to the two boys hiding under the table, making breathing an effort.

Severus moved forward a little and peered over the edge of the table. "Do you see them?" Jugson was asking.

"Keep your voice down!" hissed Malfoy. "And how do you expect me to know what they look like from their correspondence? I've told them about us—they'll recognize us. Stop looking so bloody petrified, Jugson! Just drink your Butterbeer." He grimaced at his own filthy bottle and began to gingerly wipe away the layer of dust.

"Sev!" Rodolphus pulled Severus back down as the door swung open again and three imperious wizards wearing black cloaks entered in a line.

Severus thought they looked like the Dementors he'd once seen in a book. Their faces were in total obscurity, as their hoods were pulled down low explicitly to conceal their features. With a brief nod at Malfoy, they started purposefully towards the table, pausing at the bar on the way.

"Sherry," muttered the first man, casting a nervous eye round the premises. He had a low, growling voice.

"Firewhiskey," rumbled the second in a whiskery croak, but with the tiniest flutter, like he was frightened.

"Redcurrant rum," squeaked the third in a very artificial falsetto that to Severus was wholly incongruous, for he was the tallest and burliest of the three. He too seemed anxious to preserve his anonymity.

"Coming right up," said the bartender calmly, unmoved by their bizarre manner.

The hems of three coarse black cloaks stopped in front of Severus and Rodolphus. Severus nearly got touched by one wizard's pointed, polished black shoe and had to shrink away in a hurry.

"Lucius Malfoy?" grunted the croaky-voiced wizard. "Silas Jugson?"

"Yes," said Malfoy, with the slightest of tremors in his voice.

Rodolphus nudged Severus and grinned, nodding towards Jugson, whose knees were knocking together under the table.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," Malfoy went on, seeming to recover his aplomb. "I'm greatly obliged to you for taking the time to meet us. Please take a seat, won't you?"

The two seventh years shifted their spindly chairs quickly to one side of the table while the three Death Eaters slid gracefully into the chairs on the other side. Severus and Rodolphus had to hastily shuffle around in the dirt to avoid getting kicked.

"Er, I-" began Malfoy.

"Stop," said the falsetto wizard. "Wait just a moment, please."

The old bartender hobbled to their booth with a tray and deposited the drinks on the table. Then he wandered off and went straight back to wiping the filthy countertop, making it clear he had no interest in his patrons' business dealings. The falsetto Death Eater seemed to relax.

"You were saying, Mr. Malfoy?" prompted the first wizard in a hushed voice. This was quite a band of radicals, Severus thought to himself wryly: one afraid of being seen, one afraid of being heard, one simply afraid.

"Er, ah, yes," Malfoy said, apparently thinking along the same lines as Severus, for he went on, "Am I correct in thinking I have the honour of addressing my contact Mr. Arcanus?"

"Shh!" whispered the first, deep-voiced Death Eater. But he seemed to have gotten over his anxiety of being overheard, because when he spoke next he sounded vaguely amused. "Yes, I am he. Strange, Mr. Mysticus, is it not, how Mr. Malfoy's manner may shift from courteous to simply curt in a matter of seconds?"

"Quite strange, Mr. Arcanus," agreed Mysticus, the croaking wizard. "We shall have to look out for his changing tempers, shall we not, Mr. Invisus?"

"Indeed we shall, Mr. Mysticus," said the falsetto wizard. "You understand of course, Mr. Malfoy, that we always use pseudonyms at our recruitment meetings."

"Of course," said Malfoy smoothly. "You have, ah, many engagements like this?"

"Many? No, of course not," said Invisus. "Our organization is a very exclusive one, Mr. Malfoy. We meet almost no one. But your letters intrigued us. You seemed exceedingly interested in participating in our activities. It is not often that a wizard is drawn to our ideology at so young an age. Why, pray tell, do you wish to become one of us?"

"Because I completely believe in your doctrine and You-Kn--your leader," Malfoy said. "His views are mine as well."

"And you, Mr. Jugson, what do you think?" Mysticus asked. Severus smiled under the table at the idea of Jugson thinking.

"Er- well- yes, what Malfoy said," Jugson stammered.

"Our correspondence has been a welcome respite from the tedium of the everyday," drawled Arcanus. "Eloquent style, and, I might add, very respectable penmanship."

Malfoy puffed out his chest with pride. "Thank you, sir. Professor Astaroth always compliments my calligraphy, too."

"Astaroth!" repeated Mysticus with a shudder. "Chrysogonus Astaroth, I presume?"

"Of course it's the same man, how many Astaroths do you know?" Arcanus said.

"Just the one cousin of mine," said Mysticus.

"Cousin!" Jugson said in alarm.

"Yes—but Merlin's beard, what a silly stuck-up fellow he is! Have no fear, Mr. Jugson, he knows nothing of my—ahem—less principled dealings. Does he still keep his wand away from his pants? I thought as much. Well, we learn from our mistakes." Severus and Rodolphus exchanged curious grins.

"He's a former Auror," Jugson said anxiously.

"Wish he'd calm down," Rodolphus whispered to Severus, "when he gets nervous he jogs his left leg and I'm having such a time staying out of his way."

"Shhh," Severus said, straining to hear the discussion above their heads.

Mysticus was saying, "True, he did work for the Ministry for forty-two years, but he never stopped griping about it for a second. Underpaid, overworked, underappreciated, too few awards, too small an office--too big an ego! You must understand that Chrysogonus is a Slytherin first and an Auror second."

"Have you got something against Slytherin?" Malfoy asked, affronted into impertinence.

"No Mr Malfoy, I haven't, but surely you remember that ambition and love of power are idiosyncratic to your noble house. Chrysogonus has got a lot of it. Eventually he shall realize, as you have, that ours is the only path to power and glory."

"Power and glory," Jugson murmured.

Invisus hadn't said anything for a while, but presently his falsetto voice broke into the conversation.

"Arcanus, Mysticus, you are too hasty," he scolded. "One can never be too chary. How can we be certain that this is not an elaborate trap devised by our enemies in the Ministry?"

Malfoy drew himself up indignantly. "I would never stoop so low as to betray great revolutionaries like yourselves."

"Oh, I would," said Arcanus. "You mustn't underestimate the value of double-crossing. What do you think we want Astaroth for?"

"Hush, Arcanus," Invisus chided.

"I speak only of general truths," Arcanus said. "You know as well as I do, Invisus, how his contacts in the Ministry and... elsewhere would be extremely useful to us."

"Exactly," Malfoy said eagerly, "and I too could contribute my influence! My family, as you are undoubtedly aware, has many contacts in all places, high and low, and if I could-"

"Mr. Malfoy, with your enthusiasm you only betray your ignorance," Arcanus interrupted. "You are as yet too young to wield your family's influence unobtrusively and effectively. Why, you are not even yet patriarch! I think it would perhaps be prudent for you to wait a few years before pledging your life to his Lordship."

Malfoy was quiet for a moment, digesting the rebuke. Then he spoke, quietly, but with smooth, smug confidence.

"With your condescension, Mr. Arcanus, you only betray _your _desperation. You say I am too young, too green perhaps; but if that is the case, why agree to meet with me at all? Why risk being caught if you were only coming to turn me down? And most telling of all, why would it take three of you to deliver one message of rejection?" He appeared to have forgotten completely about Jugson beside him, and Jugson didn't seem eager to remind him. "I requested this meeting, but you came to size me up, to test me with mockery and rejection. Well, I refuse to give in. I am going to be a Death Eater, even if I have to go to You-Know-Who himself for his approval."

"What d'you think then, Arcanus?" Mysticus asked, a note of amusement in his croaking voice. "Has he passed your test?"

"I wasn't aware I had set one," Arcanus said dryly. "He's getting ahead of himself. And if you want to be a Death Eater, Mr. Malfoy, you _do _have to have the sanction of his Lordship himself."

"I shall do it," Malfoy said. "I'll do anything."

"Hmmmm," was all Arcanus would say to this.

Malfoy went on, "You must understand: I'm seventeen. It's my last year at Hogwarts. I've got to think about the future--and I firmly believe You-Know-Who will be a crucial part of that future."

"Hear that, lads?" squeaked Invisus, "We've got a Seer among us!"

"I'll drink to that," Mysticus said cheerily, and the pair of them clinked glasses.

"We've decided we like you, Mr. Malfoy, you and your nervous friend," Mysticus said genially, ignoring the dubious rumblings coming from Arcanus' end of the table. "There aren't many wizards nowadays bold enough to brave the tremendous bad press bestowed on our lord, let alone resourceful enough get in touch with us. What are you planning to do after Hogwarts?"

"I'm from a rather affluent family, so I don't really have to worry about what it is I do for a living," Malfoy said haughtily. "But I do want to do something prestigious, something that will allow me to invest my money in a good cause, something worthwhile to us purebloods."

Mysticus laughed a merry, rumbling laugh and nudged Invisus. "We're a cause now, next he'll be saying we're on a crusade!"

"Shut up, Mysticus," Arcanus hissed, as a few heads turned, seeking the source of the hearty laughter. "We don't want to attract attention."

"Sorry, Arcanus," Mysticus said meekly.

"You've got to be less conspicuous," said Invisus. "Perhaps if you didn't drink so much..."

"Now look here," said Mysticus in annoyance, leaning over and upsetting the glass of rum, which spilled into Invisus' lap.

"_Merde_, Mysticus, look what you've done!" Invisus hissed.

"Sorry, Invisus," Mysticus said contritely, pulling out his handkerchief and trying to daub at the rum on of his companion's robes. "I'm terribly clumsy, you know, I really am sorry…"

Mysticus' feet moved when he dug the handkerchief out of his pocket and Severus hurriedly shifted out of the way, nearly falling into Rodolphus. "Budge up," he started to whisper, but he stopped suddenly at the sight of Rodolphus' suddenly white, petrified face.

"We've got to get out of here," Rodolphus said without bothering to whisper.

"But we've only just got here, Jugson, be quiet," Malfoy said.

"I beg your pardon?" Jugson said stupidly.

"Is there a problem?" asked Arcanus.

"Why?" Severus hissed to Rodolphus.

"We have to leave _now_," Rodolphus said urgently, tugging on his sleeve and accidentally knocking Mysticus' shin with his elbow.

"Did you just kick me, Invisus?" Mysticus asked in surprise.

"Of course not!"

"I said, we just got here, Jugson," Malfoy repeated.

"I didn't say anything!"

"I want to go _right now_," Rodolphus insisted.

"But we haven't heard the rest of their meeting!" Severus said.

"But we haven't ordered yet!" Arcanus said to his colleagues. "I'm famished and the liver and onions here is excellent."

"What the devil are you talking about?" Invisus said blankly.

"Let's go!" Rodolphus hissed.

He seized Severus' arm and started to slide out from under the table, but Severus, confused, did not move with him. Rodolphus lost his balance and fell to the floor as the Invisibility Cloak slithered off their shoulders, trapped under Severus' shoe. He sprawled on his back out into the open and Severus was dragged forward, spread-eagled on Rodolphus' knees.

The pub fell silent. Severus stared at the ceiling, stunned, as five angry figures hove into view above the tabletop.

"You two!" Malfoy spat, his face drained of colour.

"What are you doing here?" demanded Jugson and Invisus at the same time, in exactly the same aghast tone.

"Are these gentlemen with you, Mr. Malfoy?" Mysticus asked. Arcanus was standing frozen with shock.

"No!" Malfoy said quickly, seizing both first years by the scruff of their necks and hauling them to their feet. "You're _DEAD_," he hissed wrathfully in their ears.

The bartender had eased out from behind the bar and was suddenly standing next to them.

"You're first years," he observed coldly. "You can't come here."

"I'll deal with them," Malfoy responded.

"Out," said the barman grimly, shaking his filthy dishrag at the four students. "All four of you Hogwarts lads, I want you out right now."

"Fine, we're gone," barked Malfoy. To the Death Eaters he said, with excessive cordiality masking his acute rage, "Perhaps we can meet another time?"

"We'll keep in touch," Invisus said, staring at the two first years. Arcanus had one hand clamped over his heart, as if feeling palpitations from the shock.

Then Malfoy was stalking to the door, shoving his charges ahead of him while Jugson jogged after them, looking positively terrified. Rodolphus was still very white and Severus had never been so scared in his life. But somehow it was in times of utter terror like these that he was at his most brilliant.

"I grabbed the Cloak," he whispered to Rodolphus.

"Severus, I love you," Rodolphus hissed back feverishly. "Wait for it—wait-"

Malfoy barged out of the inn and threw both boys to the ground. He inhaled sharply, drawing breath to begin raging at them—but they scrambled to their feet and Rodolphus bellowed, "Now!"

Severus flung the Invisibility Cloak over their heads and they were off like a shot, with Malfoy's stunned roars filling the air behind them.

They ran and ran, the Cloak flapping about their legs. They dove headlong into the uncovered rubbish bin and hit the ground hard, causing Severus to stumble as he fought to take in breath; but Rodolphus yanked the cover over their heads and pleaded, "No, we've got to go on!" and they kept running until they collapsed in the piled-up dust at the top of the spiral staircase, drenched in sweat and completely winded.

"_Lumos_!"

As his wandtip splashed its faint light on pale, panting Rodolphus, sprawled flat on the dusty floor, Severus slumped against the rough-hewn wall. He was shaking and his ribs ached with the effort of breathing.

"Have you gone completely bloody mad?" he shouted hoarsely at Rodolphus. "What were you thinking, dashing out of there like a lunatic at the worst possible time?"

Rodolphus bolted upright and stared at him with wide eyes.

"You didn't recognize them?"

"Recognize who?" snapped Severus.

"Invisus and Arcanus," Rodolphus said hysterically. "The Death Eaters. They were our fathers."

Severus dropped his wand, which clattered off into a corner.

"_What_?"


	13. Shock

How long they sat there in the dark Severus did not know, but it seemed like forever. At last Rodolphus murmured, "Perhaps we ought to be going. I'm getting claustrophobic."

"What's the matter with you?" Severus hissed. It was odd that it came out like that, when he'd meant to say it forcefully. Their experience had left him drained and weak: he found he could not muster the energy to raise his voice above a whisper. "I've just discovered my father's a Death Eater and you're getting scared of the dark?"

Rodolphus sighed. "What do you want of me? Do you want me to panic? To faint? To get sick in a corner?"

"No."

"Then shut up and let's get out of here."

"Let- let me sit a moment longer."

Rodolphus looked at his friend. Severus' eyes were unfocussed, and his face was stony. Rodolphus knew well enough to stay quiet. Eventually Severus spoke, pleadingly. "Are you absolutely certain it was them?" he asked.

"One hundred percent certain."

"I still don't believe it," Severus murmured. "My father would never do something like this..."

But he trailed off, because joining the Death Eaters was _exactly _like something Septimus Snape would do, whether to prove his mettle to his friends or simply for the fun of it. Severus' conviction was becoming shaky. Could he prove conclusively that Septimus was _not _a Death Eater? No, beyond the vague impulse of a son to automatically absolve his father of impiety—and in the logical mind of Severus Snape, such childish instincts counted for little.

And the more he thought about it, the more perfectly acceptable arguments he found for Septimus' guilt. His father spoke in a low, vaguely threatening growl just like Arcanus' voice. His father's favourite drink was sherry—it relaxed his taut nerves after work. His father had pointed, polished black shoes exactly like the ones that had halted inches away from Severus' face. Septimus had even once mentioned the liver and onions served at the Hog's Head inn.

As he pondered, he recalled the expletive that Invisus had let slip when Mysticus had knocked the rum into his lap. '_Merde_'—a French swear word—and how many times had he heard Rodolphus use it in times of stress since the Lestranges had returned from holidaying in France?

Rodolphus interrupted his thoughts by saying worriedly, "Sev, I don't want my dad to get locked up in Azkaban."

"Nor do I mine. But listen to me, Roddy, listen very carefully. No one must know about this."

"But Bella-"

"No, not Belle, not anyone! We _can't tell_ a single soul—that's the surest way to get our fathers caught out! Just keep your mouth shut and they'll be fine."

"Do you think Malfoy's going to punish us for sneaking out to Hogsmeade?" Rodolphus asked, his eyes going wide as the idea struck him.

"Probably not. He's not stupid enough to punish us for being in a place where he shouldn't have been either. Once he calms down, he'll be terrified that we'll talk. The bartender might tell on us, he's got nothing to lose—but he doesn't know who we are. We will simply act as if we were never there. You understand me? None of this ever happened."

"You know, sooner or later we'll have to talk to our fathers about this. They recognized us, I'm sure of it. What will I say?"

"We'll say we were never there. That's the easiest excuse. We were in the library the whole afternoon. We'll keep our mouths shut and never speak of this again. If our fathers want to know what we saw, we'll simply deny everything."

"But Sev..." faltered Rodolphus. "Oughtn't we to be pleased our fathers are taking part in the blood wars?"

"You have no qualms with them potentially being murderers?"

Rodolphus shrugged. "I'm against half-breeds and Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers. Of course I wish pure, ancient wizarding blood counted for something. Aren't you?"

"Well… perhaps… but I rather wish my father wouldn't take quite such an _active _part. I wouldn't, in his place."

"_I_ would," Rodolphus said, suddenly fired up. "Why, if You-Know-Who hasn't got rid of all the filthy half-bloods by the time I'm a qualified wizard, I'd be glad to join him!"

Severus gaped. "You're being a perfect ninny. How can you possibly be ready to join their ranks without a second or even a first thought? Don't you understand that the risks? I certainly don't want to be killed, or to have my soul sucked out by-"

"Stop it!" Rodolphus said.

"Promise me you won't tell a soul about what we saw today, Roddy."

"But-"

"Just promise!" Severus shouted. He relented, seeing Rodolphus' apprehension. "Please, swear on your soul you'll keep this whole business our secret until I figure out what to do."

Rodolphus nodded meekly, and Severus sighed inwardly. Was this what being a best friend was—pure and complete faith in another person? He could never do that, surrender his will to someone else, not even to Rodolphus or Bellatrix. But Rodolphus placed one hand on his heart and Severus did the same, and they shook hands solemnly. In this way they were bound to secrecy forever without remittance. There are many secret-keeping rituals that are just as binding as the Fidelius Charm, and not nearly as complicated.

Time passed. No word came from home. The Snape and Lestrange patriarchs remained silent.

A fog descended upon Severus and seeped into his heart. At times it made him detached and glum, or else numb and slow to react, and in the two weeks after the incident he was less than a pleasure to be around. He stayed silent for hours at a time. The other Slytherins assumed his diffidence would be short-lived, and were at first disposed to be accomodating. But when he did deign to speak, he was sarcastic and harsh, and whatever inclinations of compassion they had harboured dissipated after he coldly informed Alexis Avery that he would derive more pleasure from French-kissing a Flobberworm than from playing a game of chess.

Only Rodolphus could stand to be around him anymore. But he too was acting erratically: he was constantly agitated, unable to form coherent sentences, and had developed a twitch in his right arm that randomly caused him to knock open bottles of ink onto essays or dump goblets of pumpkin juice into people's laps.

Severus alone was aware that what was driving Rodolphus mad with worry was the strain of keeping their secret—that, and the fear that Dumbledore would discover they had snuck out of the castle and expel them. Between Severus' cruelty and Rodolphus' clumsiness, the other Slytherins became impatient, and began to make excuses to be away from them.

Even the constant jibes of Potter and his friends failed to register. Potter continued to threaten Severus with retribution for landing him in detention with Filch, but he might have saved his breath, because Severus refused to pay attention to him.

The gravity of Severus' distress was such that he even allowed it to impact the one aspect of life that he had always prized above all else: his studies. He was so preoccupied with his domestic dilemmas that he paid absolutely no attention to lessons, and his fluctuating homework habits began to match Bellatrix's.

He could never concentrate anymore. He had always been a hard worker and an avid reader, but whenever he even attempted to do homework the words he was reading would run together and puddle in the middle of the page, and he would rouse himself half an hour later to find with some consternation that he had doodled the word '_Death_' over and over on his parchment.

Days trickled by, and there hung only an obstinate taciturnity on the home front.

Severus' grades slipped—negligibly at first, but steadily plummeting lower and lower until he completely blanked on a quiz in Defence Against the Dark Arts and was unable to fill in even one answer. At that point Astaroth called Severus to his office.

"_Zero_?" Astaroth thundered at him, shaking his blank quiz. Severus' stomach lurched. Astaroth's motion of brandishing his paper was very similar to the waving of a filthy dishrag by a certain ancient bartender not so long ago.

"_ZERO_?" Astaroth repeated, crumpling up the parchment and pitching it across the room. Severus remained silent.

Astaroth flipped three pairs of spectacles onto his nose and leaned over his desk. "I must admit that from your friend Lestrange, low marks are unfortunately almost to be expected... But upon hearing that _you_ have also been doing abysmally in every class, Snape, I cannot help but be concerned. Such a gifted student... It seems a crime not to investigate the cause of your plunging marks and recently abnormal behaviour. I have been wondering why it is that, when I ask a question, I only see the hands of Mr. Lupin and Miss Evans shoot into the air. And I am curious to know: is something bothering you?"

He fixed Severus with his violet eyes, intensely, as if he was trying to bore through his forehead and get a good look at his brain.

For the first time, Severus felt a grudging twinge of newfound respect for Professor McGonagall; at such close proximity to Astaroth it was excruciatingly difficult to keep from fainting in fright, let alone to summon the courage to scream in his face. But a wave of icy lassitude bolstered his defences, or at least numbed his fears; and he said in measured tones, "There's nothing bothering me, Professor."

"Nothing?" Astaroth repeated coolly, then suddenly screamed, "_Just like your quiz mark_!"

Severus did not flinch even as Astaroth's spittle flew in his face. The teacher regained his composure just as quickly as it had left him. "You are distracted and subdued. Perhaps there is something going on in your personal life that is none of my business... But I ask that you at least try to project some semblance of alertness in class, if only to humour your teachers."

Severus pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his face quite deliberately before replying, "As you wish, Professor."

"And if you don't shape up you will be suspended," Astaroth added.

"If it must be so," Severus agreed equably, though this seemed a rather drastic consequence for just a few zeroes.

Astaroth's face contorted unexpectedly with rage and he slammed his fist on his desk. Again Severus expected a cracking sound, either from the fist or from the desk, but none came. "Does nothing shake you?" he bellowed in Severus' face. "Are you made of stone?"

Severus thought he understood now. Whether Astaroth was genuinely concerned for him was irrelevant; he had summoned him here to try to get a rise out of Severus, to see if he could terrorize him out of his torpor. Even through the anaesthetizing fog, Severus felt something very like disgust for the meddlesome teacher.

Very quietly he said, "I really don't know what to tell you, Professor. May I go now?"

Astaroth sighed and turned away. "Oh, get out."

As Severus hurried from the office he thought of McGonagall's taunt to Astaroth, that he was an Auror and would never be a real teacher. He thought he understood her now. Astaroth's interrogation just now had seemed more like the bullying tactics employed in grillings by Ministry Aurors than a teacher's concerned enquiry.

Rounding the corner he collided with someone much bigger and fell to the floor. Raising his head, he found Lucius Malfoy and Silas Jugson standing over him. Jugson's eyes grew huge as dinner plates.

"Sorry," Severus tried to say, but his throat was constricted.

Malfoy's expression tightened; then he stormed off without a word, Jugson tottering off in his wake.

Malfoy did not appear to know quite how to react to Severus and Rodolphus. For days after the meeting in the Hog's Head he overtly ignored them, taking great pains to stare straight ahead when they passed him in the corridors, and talking very loudly to everyone except them. Then he suddenly changed tack and began profiting from every opportunity to harass them loudly in the common room. Now it seemed he was back to acting like he didn't see them, which at least was better than having to sit tight-lipped in the common room, trying to focus on the lake of words in the centre of a page while enduring snide remarks from all the seventh years.

As Severus struggled to his feet and brushed himself off, he heard a swishing of robes behind him. He wheeled to find that Malfoy had returned, alone. The seventh year's pale eyes were narrowed at him.

"Jugson and I did not see you that day," he drawled, with more than a hint of menace in his soft voice, "if you did not see us."

"Agreed," Severus said quickly. "But you can't say anything to anyone—including those... contacts of yours."

"Fine," Malfoy said shortly. He spun on his heel and swept away. _One hurdle overcome_, Severus thought.

And still there was no word from their fathers.

Severus began to wonder if maybe it was all a mistake. Maybe all that circumstantial evidence his powers of logic had reluctantly amassed was just that—circumstance, coincidence. There must be plenty of wizards in Britain with black pointed shoes like Septimus Snape's, a deep voice like his, an imperious demeanour like his... _It _is _possible that it's all a coincidence_, Severus pleaded with himself. It just wasn't likely.

A full week went by without a peep out of either father. Severus and Rodolphus came to the conclusion that their fathers _had _recognized them, but that they were too cowardly, or embarrassed, or both, to admit the knowledge. Yet Rodolphus desperately wanted to write his father.

"I know him, Sev," he pleaded, "I know he wants to write to me—he's probably spending hours pacing in his study, fretting over the right words and he'll never find them—he'd be ever so relieved—just let me dash off a note, just one tiny little message-"

"No!" Severus said firmly. "We have to pretend we don't know anything about their being... you-know-whats. If they want to acknowledge it, let _them _write first."

"You know what I think is happening back home," grumbled Rodolphus, "is that _my_ dad wants to write to me too but _your_ dad won't let him."

Severus ignored him, even though it was probably true.

Both Mrs. Snape and Mrs. Lestrange continued to write long, gushing epistles as usual; the boys supposed their mothers did not know about their husbands' participation in illegal secret societies.

Still, they pored over each letter, alighting on the slightest mention of either husband, but nothing was said beyond references to lower back pain, grey hair, and sending love. Severus resented that sentiment on his mother's part. What right did Rosella have, to send love from a man who probably felt like murdering his son? If Septimus held his son in any esteem he would have written by now, to explain what he had been doing in the Hog's Head that day, to confess that he was a Death Eater, or at the very least, to _lie _and say that it had all been a practical joke at Malfoy and Jugson's expense.

But he did not write; and Severus certainly wasn't going to write to _him_. Snapes were obdurate and stubborn by nature. For Rodolphus, it was painful to watch two Snape wizards pitted against one another, because once an impasse was reached, nothing short of the reincarnation of Merlin himself to mediate would convince them to surrender.

Another whole week passed. At this time of year minuscule rivulets of water trickled down the stone walls in the dungeons. Autumn had arrived, and with it came the heavy rains that were legendary in this part of the country, rains so torrential that individual drops could not be discerned: only a continuous sheet of water, inundating the grounds, leaking into the dungeons, and deafening the merpeople deep in the lake.

It became a battle to cross the quagmire that had been the lawns, in order to reach the greenhouses. Severus was afraid that Professor Sprout would be angry when the Slytherin first years tracked incredible quantities of mud in with them when they waded into greenhouse one for Herbology, but she too was waterlogged, and expressed only her relief that they had managed to survive the trek.

The first year Gryffindors were just preparing to slog through the marsh as the Slytherins burst through the doors in a gust of wet, icy wind. Everything in the greenhouse received a thorough drenching before the doors could be slammed against the howling wind.

"You're blocking the door, Snivellus," Potter said coldly as the mud-caked Slytherins collapsed to the floor in exhaustion.

Severus glowered at him with deepest loathing through a mud mask. Rodolphus' right arm flew out and would have thwacked Maud Wilkes in the face if Severus had not reflexively snatched it out of the air. Rodolphus was still beset with his uncontrollable nervous tic, which worsened whenever he caught sight of the Gryffindors. He was afraid Potter would find out about the surreptitious excursion to Hogsmeade and use it to blackmail Rodolphus and Severus as his revenge for the detention with Filch.

"You want to get out? Be my guest," Severus snarled, dragging himself out of the way.

"I hope you cut off your fingers with your pruning shears," Potter sneered.

"I hope you drown in the mud," Severus shot back. With one last scowl Potter swung his schoolbag over his shoulder, pulled up his hood, and led his housemates out into the rain. Black and Pettigrew smirked at Severus as he passed out the door, but Lily Evans, strangely, paused and looked him over appraisingly.

"What do you want, Evans?" he barked.

Lily looked taken aback. "I was wondering why I've suddenly become the only one who answers questions in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Have you got the same thing as Lupin now?"

"Am I ill, you mean?" Severus snorted, passing a grimy hand across his face. "No—but after spending twenty minutes slogging through the mud out there, I probably will be. What do you care?"

Lily frowned. "I was curious, that's all." She hesitated. "I don't know if I should tell you this, but Potter's got-"

Severus couldn't believe how interfering she was. "It's simply impossible for you to stop poking your nose into everyone's business, isn't it? Can't you just leave me alone?" Letting his irritation get the better of his judgment he added cruelly, "Why don't you just go out in the slime where you belong, _Mudblood_?"

Lily's eyes widened. "_Slime_—I'll give you slime!" She suddenly kicked a great gob of mud in his face, and before he could think of a comeback she was gone.

Severus and the other first years wearily dug themselves out of the swamp by the door and took their places by Professor Sprout.

"Today we will be pruning the Alihotsy plants," Professor Sprout announced, once they had gotten all the mud and rainwater out of their ears. "You must keep your gloves on at all times, because the ingestion of a few mere particles of the magic substance secreted by the Alihotsy plant will cause uncontrollable hysteria. I remember once when I was your age and I was pruning one of these plants with bare hands; when I happened to bring my fingers to my mouth a few hours later, I had a fit of the giggles that had me rumbling for nearly half an hour straight—right in the middle of History of Magic!" She frowned. "Although now that I think of it, Professor Binns didn't seem to notice."

The Alihotsy plants closely resembled bamboo shoots, except that these were black as obsidian, leaves and all. The first years set to snipping off the dead leaves, which Professor Sprout warned were equally potent when desiccated as when live. The lusty lashing of the wind and rain on the glass created a lulling, soporific rhythm. Severus had a hard time focusing on his task, and several times came close to fulfilling Potter's wish that he would amputate his fingers with his own pruning shears.

Later, as he was trudging alone out of the dungeons on his way to the Great Hall for dinner, Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew, now regrettably spotless, clattered excitedly up the stairs on the other side of the marble staircase. They stopped and fell silent when they saw him.

"Snivellus," Potter said evenly.

Severus, who was trying to calculate how quickly he would have to draw his wand, couldn't think of anything particularly acerbic to say. "You're unusually serene," he said. "Not angry about Filch anymore? Have your bruises gone away yet?"

He glanced down at Potter's wrist, where the red marks of Filch's manacles had still not faded, and smirked. Potter pulled his sleeve down past his knuckles and scowled.

"We'll get our revenge," Pettigrew sneered.

"You're certainly taking your sweet time about it," Severus said shortly. "Now get out of the way."

"You forgot to say please," responded Lupin.

Severus eyed him. He was pale and had dark circles under his eyes. Severus speculated briefly what illness had plagued him, before returning to the matter at hand. "I don't need good manners to speak to swine," he growled.

"Oh, I reckon you'll be singing a different tune in a few hours, Snivellus," Black murmured, and something in his tone made Severus glance at him sharply. But the four Gryffindors only smiled smugly.

At that moment a group of Hufflepuffs came up the stairs behind the Gryffindors. Black brightened when he recognized Bellatrix's sister. "There's Andromeda, she's the only cousin of mine I actually like," he said to Lupin. Reaching out as she passed, he said warmly, "Andromeda!"

"Not now, Sirius," Andromeda Black muttered, shaking off his hand. Severus saw she had her arm round another Hufflepuff fourth year, who was sobbing into her hands.

"Amelia?" Black said curiously, peering at the other girl. "Amelia Bones? What's wrong with her?"

"I'll see you later, Sirius, please!" Andromeda whispered desperately, leading Amelia Bones away. Black and his friends looked after them in puzzlement, and Severus slipped past them into the Great Hall unobserved.

At dinner not even the feast of hearty stews and nourishing puddings could lift his spirits. He ate and drank a little, but tasted nothing at all. Fortunately Petula and Maud Wilkes always chattered so much that the absence of Severus' voice went unnoticed.

At one point Severus became aware that Rodolphus was staring at him queerly. It took Severus a moment to realize it was because he was eating out of the marmalade jar.

"For God's sake," he muttered, pushing the jar away in annoyance. "I can't taste bloody anything!"

Rodolphus nodded absently, not really listening. His eyes strayed over Bellatrix's shoulder to the Gryffindor table. He nudged Severus.

"Look at Potter and his gang, ogling us. They're all grinning. You don't think they've picked tonight to get their revenge, do you? Not on top of the foul weather, the zeroes I keep getting in Transfiguration, and that five-foot essay for Charms! Ah, _merde_!"

He froze as he realized what curse had just escaped him. Then his face crumpled and his arm twitched, sending a spoon skittering into Fulton Bulstrode's lap.

Severus looked up. Potter was indeed smirking at them, and looked discomfitingly pleased with himself. "Probably poisoned the pumpkin juice or something," he said. Rodolphus set down the goblet of pumpkin juice he had been lifting to his lips.

Rosier was polishing off a whole pudding by himself. When the last morsel vanished the dish was replaced by a steaming stoat pie. "Ugh! Here, Snape, this is obviously for you."

"Go on Severus," Petula urged, "you've had hardly anything all evening, I've been watching you."

Severus was too tired to resist; he obediently took up a wedge and began to mechanically shovel food into his mouth.

"Now where do you reckon Dumbledore is?" Bellatrix asked. "We're nearly finished eating and he's not even shown up yet."

"When we get out of here I'm going straight to the toilet to vomit," Severus whispered.

Avery overheard him and said sympathetically, "I wouldn't blame you, Snape, that stuff's foul. And what are those?"

He pointed to a dark little clump of shredded leaves on Severus' fork. Severus shrugged and swallowed. "Bay leaves or something, I don't know. Maybe the elves are tweaking the recipe."

"Look, Bella, there's Dumbledore now," Maud remarked.

The Headmaster had entered from a door off to the side of the head table. He quickly crossed to his place at the centre of the table and began to converse with Astaroth and McGonagall. All three seemed grave.

"Severus, I'll wager they're talking about us," Rodolphus said in a small voice, looking weedy. "You don't think they've found out about us—or about Father?"

"Shh," Severus hissed. For Dumbledore had stood to speak, and though he did not look angry, he certainly appeared far from pleased. The amused twinkle was gone from his blue eyes, and the absence of that worried Severus most of all.

When the noise in the Great Hall had died into a respectful silence, Dumbledore began slowly, "I apologize for interrupting your dinner, but there is a matter over which I have been deliberating for some time now."

The room was listing to one side—no, it was Severus who was swaying in his seat. He gripped the edge of the table. "I have discovered that several breaches of my trust have been made by students here," Dumbledore said.

No one said a word. Severus risked a glance at Lucius Malfoy. The Head Boy's expression was fixedly attentive and he betrayed no indication of anxiety. Severus knew what Rodolphus would have said: _Quel acteur_. Silas Jugson, meanwhile, had gone sheet-white, and there was fear in his normally vacant eyes.

"The school rules," Dumbledore said, his piercing blue gaze sweeping the students, "clearly state that only third year students and older may visit Hogsmeade, with the permission of their parents. Yet I am grieved to say that only two weeks ago, first years were caught in the village. This violation will not be repeated."

This was an order. Some students and teachers seemed confused. Minor infringements like this weren't exactly commonplace, but they were hardly reason enough to interrupt dinner.

"Also," Dumbledore continued, "I have been informed, by reliable sources, that other students were using their Hogsmeade privileges to conduct appointments with," he paused, choosing his words carefully, "unscrupulous persons. I must warn you that contact with such parties is very dangerous. It will not do for Hogwarts students to draw untoward attention on themselves, particularly at a time like this, when tolerance is at an unprecedented low. Some misdeeds cannot be forgiven."

No one moved. Every eye in the room was fixed on Dumbledore. Professor Astaroth had all seven pairs of spectacles perched down the length of his nose.

"I have always asked that you conduct yourselves with decorum and in accordance with the laws set out to protect you. This is why I must demand that contact with—_unprincipled _persons cease immediately, and never resume in the vicinity of Hogsmeade or Hogwarts, or during school time."

Severus peeked quickly at Malfoy. He was slightly paler than usual, but continued to devote his full attention to the Headmaster with an innocent expression. Severus knew that Malfoy would not be deterred by the new rules.

Dumbledore took a deep breath. "Please understand that whatever I must do, it is done with your best interests at heart. I desire only your well-being in all aspects of life. I... I have held off on this announcement to deliberate possible alternatives, because this one is not appealing to me... But there is nothing else I can do. I have decided to forbid all students from entering the Hog's Head inn."

There was a babble of protest from the students, which Dumbledore seemed to have anticipated. They were not really objecting to being barred from the pub, since, as Malfoy had once pointed out, Hogwarts students almost never frequented the Hog's Head. But if Dumbledore began imposing limits on their freedoms now, it could explode out of control. No one wanted to be a prisoner in their school. He raised his hands to quell the complaints.

"I know I have never restricted your movements before, but it is for your own good." Some students groaned at the platitude, and the Headmaster frowned. "Perhaps you do not grasp the gravity of the times we live in. There is an extremely dangerous wizard at large who will stop at nothing in his endeavour to seize power by violence. He has no regard for human life and will use whatever witches or wizards are foolish enough to follow him. Only this morning the Ministry discovered that another of its valued employees, Eudora Bones, has disappeared, bringing the total of the missing to nine."

_Aha, _Severus thought. So that was why Amelia Bones had been crying. Severus did not know her, but he felt a horrible pang of shame as he wondered whether his father, one of the foolish wizards Dumbledore had referred to, could have had anything to do with the abduction of Eudora Bones.

Suddenly he felt a different sensation altogether. Something strange was happening to him; it began in the pits of his stomach, crept up to his lungs, and pushed its way up his throat to his vocal chords; and he realized what it was only a fraction of a second before it exploded from his mouth. Laughter, horrible, hysterical, uncontrollable laughter.

To his utter horror, he began to _giggle_ into the total silence.

Every head instantly swivelled to look at him. The faces were at first confused, then shocked, then, as his tittering crescendoed to shrieks of mirthless laughter, they were outraged.

But he couldn't stop, and he didn't even know where this was all coming from.

Rodolphus grabbed his arm, his face white. "Stop it, Severus. This isn't funny."

He couldn't. Rodolphus shook him, hard. "Stop it! Sev, stop laughing! _Stop_!"

Severus was screaming with laughter now, tears pouring down his cheeks; he quaked and his frail ribcage trembled with him. Even as he shook off Rodolphus' arm he felt that one rib was close to the breaking point. He threw his arms round his stomach and lost his balance, falling backwards off his chair.

His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, but, had he been able to open them, he would have noticed Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew staring not at him, but at each other with sickened, horrified expressions.

Lucius Malfoy was suddenly kneeling beside him, his pale face contorted with rage. "Stop this right now, Snape!"

Severus shook his head, wanting to say he couldn't stop; but Malfoy took it to mean that he _wouldn't_ stop. He seized Severus roughly by the shoulders and shook his thin, quaking body like a rag doll, little realizing what strain he was adding to his rattled ribcage.

A stabbing pain told Severus one of the fragile ribs had fractured and he screamed louder, his gasping laughter reaching a feverish, cracking pitch. Malfoy hauled him bodily to his feet and dragged him, lurching and staggering like a drunken man, out of the Great Hall. His mad cackling still reverberated off the walls while the rest of the school sat in stunned silence. Frowning, Albus Dumbledore rose and swiftly moved between the house tables to the doors.

In the Entrance Hall Malfoy dropped Severus on the flagstones. "There was nothing funny about that display!" he bellowed.

Severus could do nothing but shriek with his mirthless laughter. Malfoy looked at him desperately. "_Snape_!" he screamed in frustration.

The doors to the Great Hall banged open again and the Headmaster himself appeared. Wasting no time, he pointed his wand at Severus and murmured, "_Stupefy_."

Everything went black.


	14. Attack

Severus awoke much later in great pain.

He was at first very disoriented. He remembered his inexplicable convulsions of hysteria, and Dumbledore, the very angel of mercy, Stunning him in the Entrance Hall. Now he recognized the high moulded ceiling of the hospital wing. His sides were throbbing excruciatingly and his throat felt sore. He could not move from his position, flat on his back in one of the hard beds, but that was all right: he had no intention of going out to face anyone, ever again.

He stared at the ceiling dispiritedly. Why had he suddenly burst out laughing at the worst possible time in the Headmaster's speech? Had the thought of being found out by Dumbledore pushed him over the edge? Was he completely and utterly mad—or was he just sadistic? Neither thought was appealing.

Heels clicked on the tiles: someone was coming. He did not move his head. In a moment the anxious face of Madam Pomfrey hove into view above him.

"Quiet now, Snape? Got all the laughter out of your system?"

"Am I mad, Madam Pomfrey?" Severus asked, his voice hoarse and rasping from throat fatigue. She frowned, surprised. He went on, "I honestly didn't mean to laugh at the Bones family. It's the truth! So if I didn't mean to do it, but I did it anyways, I must be mad."

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "You're not mad, Snape. I… I'll admit I thought so too, after the Headmaster brought you here and explained your little demonstration—Merlin's beard, you were still shaking and cackling, even while unconscious—but after two hours you started to cough up blood, and that was when I really got worried..." She pursed her lips.

"But at last you spat up what was ailing you."

Madam Pomfrey produced a little glass dish in which rested a little mass of black shreds. "Recognize this? No? Professor Sprout will be disappointed. It's little bits of Alihotsy leaves, Snape, and we found more of them in your food. Assuming you didn't suddenly decide to season your own dinner with hysteria-provoking leaves, it was all a prank."

Severus stared at her. "A prank?" he repeated weakly.

Madam Pomfrey nodded grimly. "And unless I am very much mistaken, the culprit is the other first year whose little 'accidents' with you have caused you both to visit me here nearly ten times in the past two and a half months?"

"Has it been that many?" Severus asked drily. "Potter and I haven't been counting."

"I suppose it was too much to hope that you were coming back for my charming company," Madam Pomfrey said with a sigh. "I told the Headmaster as much—he's speaking with Potter right now."

"But no one will believe that it was a prank," Severus said despondently. "They'll all think I'm mad. No one will speak to me for the next seven years. You might as well ship me off to St. Mungo's insane ward straightaway."

"You're being melodramatic," protested Madam Pomfrey. "You'll be strong enough to get out of bed in a few days, and then you can go back to class and show everyone how perfectly sane you are."

Severus groaned. Then a though entered his head and he voiced it without thinking. "Madam Pomfrey, what's Lupin sick with?"

Madm Pomfrey's eyebrows shot up. "I beg your pardon?"

"Lupin. Lily Evans said he was ill, and he was looking rather poorly... Is it contagious? I wouldn't want to get infected and end up here again."

The nurse put a hand to her mouth and Severus had the distinct feeling she was laughing behind it. "Yes, Snape, it's contagious—in a certain way. But I don't think you have to worry about that."

She shook her head. "You know, I really think you ought to stay away from all this extreme activity, it's taking an immense toll on your poor bones. You broke four ribs last night, for Merlin's sake, and I had to wait until you were finished cackling to mend you because you just kept re-breaking them. Now go back to sleep, won't you? You need your rest."

* * *

It had been two days since his ill-timed explosion during dinner. Severus was able to move a little better, but still couldn't get out of bed. He was lying quietly, doing complicated mathematical operations with the numbers of bricks in each wall, when a commotion at the door startled him. He closed his eyes quickly and pretended to be asleep.

Several people were coming in; he recognized the voices of Bellatrix, Petula and one of the Gryffindor girls, Priya Sinque, in the clamour with Madam Pomfrey.

"It's her feet, Madam Pomfrey…" Petula fluttered.

"Sit here, dear, that's it… And you performed what spell on this girl?"

"Oh, I don't recall the name," Bellatrix said carelessly. "Ouch, that smarts! It was just some hair-colour spell, but when she saw it she simply fainted dead away. I thought you Gryffindors were meant to be big on bravery, Sinque?"

"You attacked her!" fumed Priya.

"She cursed first," Bellatrix countered.

"She never-" Priya began to argue, but Madam Pomfrey said firmly, "Miss Sinque, please! I must ask you and Miss Swipe to leave—you can't disturb my patients."

The Gryffindor girl stomped out, muttering angrily under her breath.

Petula suddenly exclaimed, "Oh no, I left Rodolphus and Maud alone with Potter and his gang!" And she too rushed out.

"You sit tight, dear," Madam Pomfrey sighed, "I'll go look for the unguent." Severus heard her bustle out, tutting to herself, and the hospital wing was quiet.

All of a sudden Bellatrix remarked, "I know you're awake, Sev."

He tried not to flinch. She said angrily, "Look at me right this minute, Severus Snape, or I'll kick you in the ribs—and you know me enough to realize that's no empty threat."

He opened his eyes and slowly inclined his head to find Bellatrix perched on the end of a bed across from him with her bare feet stuck up in the air in front of her. In the next bed lay Lily Evans, unconscious—but it took a moment for Severus to recognize her, because her dark red hair had been turned shocking white.

"Belle, tell me you didn't curse her!"

Bellatrix shrugged. "Can't lie to you."

Severus sighed, and instantly regretted it, feeling his sore ribs rattle. "What happened?" he asked, wincing.

Bellatrix looked away. "She… offended me."

He waited. "She said you were mad," Bellatrix said tiredly, "a 'self-obsessed sadistic snot,' I think it was… But I said, what did she know, she was only a filthy little Mudblood, and she jinxed me, and I jinxed her back—and here we are."

He was curiously gratified. "What curse did she use?" he asked, looking at Bellatrix's feet.

"You won't believe this—the Hotfoot Hex! Looks like she was really paying attention during your first fight with Potter in the corridor. I can't put my feet down now, Petula nearly had to carry me here."

She paused and glanced away, seeming embarrassed. "Look, sorry I didn't come see you sooner, only… there's been a lot of homework in all our classes and we've really been busy."

"You don't _do_ homework, Belle."

"Ye-es… But Petula and Maud and Rodolphus do, and I couldn't very well come by myself, could I?" She made it sound like it was Severus' fault.

"Where-" He hesitated. "Where's Rodolphus?"

Again Bellatrix looked embarrassed. "Now don't get angry or anything, but he's, ah, he's not taking this very well. Astaroth explained to us about the Alihotsy leaves, and I believe him, I really do; but a lot of people don't, and Rodolphus, for some reason, is one of them. He- he says it's a conspiracy."

She looked at him, seeming hopeful for an explanation, but he was damned if he'd break his vow of silence. He knew that Rodolphus wasn't shunning him—that in fact he was afraid his companion in crime had cracked under the pressure of keeping their secret. But talking to Bellatrix about Rodolphus was nowhere near the same as talking to Rodolphus himself—and Severus had never desired that more than now.

"But where is he now?" he asked.

"Oh, first he ranted about Ministry plots and secret societies, then he dashed off to the Owlery."

"He _what_?" He struggled to sit up. Bellatrix was alarmed.

"Sev, you've got to rest!"

"I've got to go stop him…"

"Why?" she asked.

He paused. "No reason."

Rodolphus must have seized the opportunity to send a message to his father, he thought grimly. The fool! Now it looked like the boys had cracked first. Severus sighed and wracked his brain for something to take Bellatrix's mind off his strange reaction. "Well… Aren't you afraid of what people think of you if you stand up for me?"

"I never care about that," Bellatrix said dismissively. "And even if I did—well, there are times when all we can do is stand by each other."

Severus grinned weakly. "Oh, that's _dreadful_. I had no idea you could be so trite."

She shrugged. "I can always leave you to fend for yourself."

"No," Severus said quickly. After a moment it occurred to him to say, "Thanks for standing up for me."

She smiled tensely. "What are friends for?"

She shifted herself, awkwardly and painfully, to his bedside, and held his hand tightly until he fell asleep.

* * *

When Potter and Black had conceived the nickname "Snivellus," Severus had been an object of rididule. Now he learned what it was like to be the object of a thousand people's staggering hate.

Students muttered openly in the halls when he passed by, tripped him casually, shot him dirty looks whenever he dared to raise his eyes from his shoes, hissed "Snivellus" and "Sadistic Snape" loudly at him. He stopped raising his hand in class, not wanting to draw attention to himself.

Once, he had been stopped in the corridor between classes. "Hey Snape!" a Hufflepuff fourth year had called, pushing his way through the crowded hall after him. "I've got something really funny to show you."

Severus paused, wary. A few people stopped to watch. The fourth year had brandished a Daily Prophet and pointed to the headline, 'AUROR FOUND DEAD—KILLER STILL AT LARGE.'

"Hilarious, isn't it?" said the fourth year, glaring at him. Everyone around them started laughing. Severus had turned and fled, tears stinging his eyes.

His fellow Slytherins were uncomfortable, clearly worried about how having a lunatic in their house affected their reputations. Even the teachers were cold to him.

But most of his thoughts were still devoted to his father. The prank had at least dissipated his benumbing stupour, and he had entered the next stage: anger. In a flurry of rage he ripped down the green bed hangings form his four-poster, splattered ink all over his books, tore up his mother's letters; and he would have continued with trashing the rest of the dormitory had Rodolphus, who silently observed Severus' rampage from his own bed, not gotten up and stopped him.

Rodolphus, whom Severus had forgiven for breaking down, because he was virtually the only person who would speak to Severus these days. Rodolphus, whose father had not replied to his frantic letter begging for explanations and exoneration. Rodolphus, would not smile or cry or indeed speak at all, except to answer direct question in a monotone. Rodolphus, who slept every night wrapped tightly in the Invisibility Cloak, though no one could tell except Severus, who knew him best.

They did not take meals with the rest of the school anymore. Severus could not bear the weight of all those eyes. Rodolphus did not agree and did not object; he said he didn't feel any way about it. He simply went to the kitchens and commanded the house-elves to serve them in the Slytherin common room. But when a chunk of stoat pie with soft-boiled glossops materialized innocently on a tray by the fireplace, a mere week after the fiasco, Severus threw a fit and refused to eat anything at all for days afterwards.

Their friends noticed their erratic behaviour and were rendered uneasy by it, but no one stirred themselves to speak to Severus or Rodolphus, not even Bellatrix. Her betrayal did not come as a terrible surprise to Severus, despite her compassionate words in the hospital wing: he always knew she cared more about her social standing than she let on.

Their mothers still wrote lengthy, effusive letters, but it was the first week of December, when the autumn rains had come and gone and the first frost of winter had crept over the grounds, before Rodolphus received a terse note from his father, requesting that the Invisibility Cloak be returned to him.

After long hours mulling over the matter, the boys sent back a message saying that the cloak had been a gift, and therefore rightfully belonged to Rodolphus.

The first real indication that the senior Mr. Lestrange had known their frightened faces in the Hog's Head was that he owled them back with a single word: "Fine."

Nothing more. No ranting, no bullying, not even a death threat. Was he afraid to argue? When Rodolphus saw the note with its one lonely word he burst into tears.

When he stopped crying he tore up the note, threw it in the fire, added a few photos of his family, and screamed that he was going to throw himself in the lake.

Then he calmed down and joined Severus in acceptance and despondency, peppered with episodes of overwhelming rage.

During these episodes Severus and Rodolphus would lash out at their friends, at each other, at complete strangers, sometimes even at teachers. Their mood swings were infrequent but unpredictable, and could be sparked by even the most trivial of offences.

But a more grievous insult was the cause of the loudest and most dangerous of Severus' outbursts.

* * *

He was alone in the library, looking for a book on Grindylows in the Defence Against the Dark Arts section, when he heard the voices on the other side of the bookshelf. Standing on the tips of his toes, he peered over the tops of the books at the four seventh years seated at a table, surrounded by parchments and textbooks.

"I'll never memorize all the moons of Saturn in time for the NEWTs," wailed a Gryffindor girl with flaming red hair and an exasperated grimace. Severus knew her from a Ministry Christmas party. Her name was Mandy Prewett, or Molly, or Marla, he couldn't quite remember… In any case she was very pudgy, he thought.

"Cheer up, Moll, there are only sixteen of them," said one of the boys soothingly, a skinny Hufflepuff prefect with a mop of blond hair. He was sloppy-looking, Severus decided.

"Saturn has eighteen moons, Nigel," said the other girl severely. She was Emmeline Vance, the Gryffindor Chaser who had been hit with a Bludger in the first Quidditch match against Slytherin. _Vance has rather bad acne_, Severus thought nastily.

"Has it really? I don't believe you. Enceladus, Iapetus, Telesto, Titan…The boy named Nigel seized an Astronomy tome and began to look it up. "Sixteen, seventeen... You're right again, Vance."

"I say, Molly," said the last student, whom Severus saw was Arthur Weasley, a Gryffindor about whom Lucius Malfoy frequently complained, "can you quiz me on this eckeltricity thing for my test in Muggle Studies tomorrow?"

"Honestly Arthur, I don't know how you can find all this Muggle claptrap so fascinating," Molly said with a sigh. "I think Muggle Studies is a waste of time." Saying this made her gain a few points in Severus' regard, but lost them again when she said brightly, "But of course I'll help you, Arthur, if you really are such a Muggle fanatic. Let's see… Who invented the light bulb?"

"Thomas Edison," Weasley said triumphantly. "Bit of a loony, that one, but quite brilliant—for an _American_."

"What is the substance placed inside the fie… no, fee… lam… ent?" Molly asked, stumbling on the unfamiliar word.

"Oh, I know this—don't tell me—it's-" Weasley squinted hopefully. "Trunglesten?"

"Close, Arthur, it was tungsten."

"That's what I said!" said Weasley indignantly. "Oh, go on, ask me another one."

"Describe the wiring of an electrical plug."

"Now that's a good question!" Weasley exclaimed. "I'll have to draw a few diagrams to answer this one—blast, where's my quill gone?"

"What, the one you're sitting on?" Vance said, pointing at the end of the quill sticking out from underneath his friend.

"Oh no!" Molly exclaimed.

"Oops," Weasley said sheepishly, pulling the broken feather out from under his rear.

Nigel laughed. "Arthur, did you sit on the quill Molly gave you for your birthday?"

"Careful now Nigel," Vance warned with a grin, "laughing at other people's misfortunes? You don't want to be mistaken for Snivellus Snape!"

Severus' name had the effect of a Full-Body Bind on him. He stared hard at the book he was holding. _'The Grindylow's long, brittle fingers are used to grip their prey and pull them down underwater…'_

"Snape! Now there's a loony," Weasley chortled. "I couldn't believe it when he simply burst out laughing in the middle of Dumbledore's speech. Ill-humoured, dry as rot—and completely off his rocker to boot."

"He's not mad, he's bad," Vance countered. "Pure evil, Andromeda Black told me the other day. She knows him, you know, friend of the family or something. He's a real bad egg, she said."

Severus tried not to listen. _'Also called water demons…'_

"Run in his blood," Molly said knowingly. "I met him once before Hogwarts you know, and my aunt Bernice says they're all horrible, depraved people—lawless cretins, the whole lot of them."

Nigel chuckled. "I hate him already, and I don't even have a reason!"

"Do you _want_ one?" Severus snarled, stepping out from behind the bookshelf with his wand raised. Before Nigel could react Severus hissed, "_Petrificus Totalus_!" Nigel went rigid and fell off his chair.

The other three started to reach for their wands, but Severus was faster. Pointing at Vance he said, "_Pipilo_!" Vance opened her mouth to scream, but all that came out of her mouth was a bird's twittering. She clapped both hands over mouth and chirped in alarm.

Severus turned to Molly and barked, "_Serpensortia_!" She screamed as a giant snake sprang at her with its sharp, glistening fangs bared.

Then he had his wand trained on Weasley, his wand trembling with his agitation. "Snape…" Weasley said weakly, his arms still limp at his sides.

"Zip it, Weasley," Severus said fiercely. He hardly knew what he was doing, he was so angry. "You want something to laugh at? _Rictusempra_!" Weasley dissolved in terrified giggles.

"And I hope you _choke_!" Severus shouted. He shoved his way through the crowd of stunned gathered students and stumbled out of the library, his tears blurring his vision.


	15. Punishment

Hours later Rodolphus knocked on the door of the Room of Requirement. "Sev? Are you in there?"

"No," came the answer.

"Now that was just silly," Rodolphus said with a sigh. "Even I would know not to answer. Come out." He twisted the knob, but Severus had turned the five deadbolts. "You can't hide in that broom closet forever."

"Yes I can. Go away!"

"Everyone's looking for you, Sev," Rodolphus pressed, kneeling and trying to look through the keyhole. "Astaroth's furious—even Dumbledore's out searching for you!"

"Really? Dumbledore?" Severus caught himself. "It's only to punish me! That's why I can't come out."

"Jenkins from Ravenclaw said you went on a rampage and cursed four seventh years, including two prefects."

Rodolphus waited for confirmation, but none seemed forthcoming. "Well?"

"They were—slandering me."

"So you _did_ do it?"

Severus sighed. "Yes."

Rodolphus let out a low whistle. "Four of them! Old Septimus'll be impressed."

"I suspect his satisfaction with my cursing skills will be somewhat tempered by rage when Dumbledore finds and expels me."

"Come on, Sev, give me a little credit! When Astaroth and Dumbledore asked me where you were hiding, I lied."

"I know," said Dumbledore, easing round the corner. "And I wish you wouldn't."

"Professor Dumbledore!" Rodolphus jumped up in a hurry. Severus pressed his ear to the door. "I- I'm sorry, I didn't think I-"

"-would get caught, obviously," Dumbledore finished, but he didn't sound angry. In fact he sounded almost amused. "May I speak with Severus privately?"

"Er..." Rodolphus was hesitating between compliance and loyalty.

"For Merlin's sake, Rodolphus, _laisse-nous tranquille_!" Severus said irritably from behind the door. ('Leave us alone.') "I'll see you later."

"If you say so," Rodolphus said dubiously.

"Off you go," Dumbledore said pleasantly, and Rodolphus' footsteps receded down the corridor. Dumbledore approached the polished door. "I had no idea you were fluent in French, Severus."

"German, Russian, Greek, and Latin too, but I'm sure there's loads of things you don't know about me, sir. For instance, did you know I'm a 'bad egg?' 'A lawless cretin,' according to Molly's Aunt Bernice? It runs in my blood, apparently." Severus couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice as he added, "Don't feel bad if you weren't aware of that. Neither was I."

"Might this perchance be the Molly Prewett who recently had a large snake flung at her?" Dumbledore enquired.

"It wasn't poisonous," Severus said testily. "I don't know what she was so afraid of."

"This would be much easier if we could speak face to face. Are you planning to hide in there for the rest of the year?"

"Are _you_ planning to expel me?" Severus responded, a bit insolently, but Dumbledore took no offence.

"Expel you? Why?"

"Because I cursed those four seventh years!"

"Ah yes. I must confess my overpowering curiosity about your motivation for doing so. Your victims were rather… unforthcoming when I found them in the hospital wing."

"The hospital wing?"

"Oh, you needn't fear. None of them was seriously hurt. They were simply shocked that a first year could undertake the seemingly suicidal task of attacking four seventh years—and even more shocked that you survived without a scratch."

Severus indulged in a derisive snort. "Not one of them even managed to draw their wand. It was really quite pathetic."

"If _they're_ pathetic, why are _you_ hiding in there?" Dumbledore countered. "I do wish you would come out so we could chat."

"Yes, a nice friendly chat followed by a pleasant kick out the front doors? You just want me to come out so you can expel me!"

"I assure you, Severus, that if I truly wanted you out of that cozy little broom cupboard, I would have blasted open the door a long time ago," said Dumbledore. "I am merely seeking the facts of the situation. When she recovered her voice, Miss Vance told me you suddenly jumped on them while they were innocently studying—a suspicious story—rarely have I known young Mr. Weasley to do _anything_ innocently."

"So who are you going to expel?"

"Why are you fixed on expulsion? Do you harbour some secret wish to go home?"

_Home_ evoked gloomy memories of Snape Hall, lonely in the dense, murky forest of evergreens; ivy-shrouded Snape Hall with its obsessively perfect gardens and topiaries and the empty cobwebbed broom shed in the backyard, symbol of his own failures and foolishness; the huge, sinister monster where dwelt an austere, disdainful father whose son was the bane of his existence, and a doting, spiritless young mother. The thought of returning to that house, the house of unspoken despair and melancholy, was unbearable to Severus. "No," he said firmly.

"Then what, may I ask, is keeping you in there?"

"I'm not sorry I did it, Professor, if an apology is what you're looking for. I don't think I did anything _very _wrong. I've told you what they were saying about me—would _you_ have stood for it?"

"It is unlikely that you should remember this, but a few years ago my own brother Aberforth was accused of performing—shall we say—unorthodox charms on goats. But did he curse his adversaries and then shut himself up and bolt the door? He did not!"

Severus thought of the hoary, grumpy barman in the Hog's Head and now realized where he had seen him—in a grainy photo in the _Daily Prophet_. "No, he simply refused to attend his own trial and cloistered himself in his little inn. Was he your 'reliable source' in Hogsmeade?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "That's a connection that few students have made, especially ones who should never have seen him in his milieu in the first place. Should I take that as a confession?" Severus was silent, realizing his tactical error.

The Headmaster went on gently, "My point is that if we all paid close attention to what people are saying about us, we would never be comfortable with ourselves. I have faults like everyone else, but when people write to me and point them out, I don't spend hours poring over their criticisms. Why couldn't you simply ignore them?"

"Could you ignore someone saying you were 'pure evil?' What would you have done in my place, Headmaster? There was nothing else I could do—nothing," he amended, "that readily occurred to me as I stood there listening to them rip me apart. They don't even know me!"

"I understand your hostile feelings, but I must confess that I am somewhat disappointed. Despite your antics and scuffles, you gave me the impression of being a very intelligent, sensible young man."

"Surprise," Severus said acidly. "Oh, and 'dry as rot,' that was another thing they said. Do you think _they_ stopped to consider how intelligent or sensible I might be?"

"In my opinion, you have many admirable qualities, Severus. If it makes you feel better, there _is_ something I might tell you…"

"Yes?"

"This evening at dinner, we sat down to three courses, each consisting of one item: stoat and glossop pie." Severus emitted a half-groan of horror. "Yes… As you were hiding here, you missed the meal altogether, but I assure you it was _quite_ inedible. The house-elves have only just heard about someone tampering with your favourite dish, you see, and they hate it when we mere wizards try to interfere with their cooking—especially, it seems, with food meant for you. Apparently they idolize you. This was their revenge. Minor, perhaps, never to be repeated, and certainly nothing to rewrite _History of Hogwarts_ for, but still very interesting."

Severus smiled. "I've never heard of house-elves rebelling like that."

"Neither have I, as it happens. You may have been the cause of the nearest thing to a house-elf mutiny that the wizarding world has ever had."

Severus groaned.

"I can hardly bear to think of everyone in the school going hungry on my account." It would just make everyone hate him even more.

"Professor, what's going to happen to me?" he asked in a small voice.

"Well, Arthur Weasley and his companions denied having provoked you, but I am certain that, when confronted with your side of the story, they are hardly likely to maintain their version. I do appreciate your honesty with me, and I suppose your actions were partly justified…" Severus waited with bated breath. "One week's detention and twenty points from Slytherin," Dumbledore decreed.

"Yes, Professor," Severus said. It was a very generous sentence for the number of rules he had broken. And though he didn't want to push his luck, but because he could not stop himself, he asked, "What about Weasley and the others?"

"I think my demanding apologies from the five of you would only embarrass you all further. But they will not be penalized by me, if that's what you're asking. I think," and Severus could hear the note of amusement in his voice, "that they have been sufficiently humbled by now, don't you? Defeated by a single first year student!" There was a strong tone of amusement in the Headmaster's voice. "But don't take that as an encouragement to fight."

"No, Professor."

"Will you come out now, or shall I have a bed installed in there?" Dumbledore asked.

Severus slowly unbolted the door and pushed it open. Dumbledore smiled down at him.

"That's the spirit! But there is one last thing, if you don't mind… I was wondering whether _all_ of your classmates are as adept at the Snake-Summoning Charm as you are?"

Severus felt his face grow hot. That one was from a book in his father's private library and he was uncertain of its lawfulness. "I found it in a book."

The Headmaster arched an eyebrow. "In the _Defence_ Against the Dark Arts section?"

The emphasis on 'Defence' was not lost on Severus. "Of course." He hated to lie to the Headmaster, but he wanted even less to implicate his father in any more wrongdoing.

Dumbledore gave him a searching look, and Severus gazed back, determined not to quail before the blue eyes; then the Headmaster nodded gently. "You may go," he said softly.

Severus hurried away, with the horribly disquieting feeling that Dumbledore knew more about his lie than he did.

Severus' attack on Weasley and his friends only boosted his reputation for lunacy and malevolence, but he tried to take Dumbledore's advice and ignore the whispers and hisses that haunted him as he walked down the halls. Several times he had to firmly restrain himself from throwing Furnunculus Curses at some of his more vocal slanderers; but he was quite pleased to be able to get through a week without hexing one person.

And Christmas was fast approaching. The first snowfall and the following blizzards continually reminded the students of the approaching holidays and their excitement was palpable. The teachers buckled down even more firmly against leniency as the yuletide season loomed, and appeared determined to heap as much homework as possible on the students before the Christmas spirit claimed their attention irretrievably.

Bellatrix was doing less work than ever—and her negligence became infectious. On most afternoons the first year Slytherins could be found having snowball fights or building snowmen and trying to bewitch them like the suits of armour. Only Severus and Rodolphus stayed out of the fray. They holed up in the library and studied fervently because Severus knew his presence made the others uncomfortable, and because Rodolphus needed the extra tutoring.

With his constant revising Severus managed to pull up his marks, which pleased Professor Astaroth. But in Rodolphus' case not even unremitting studying helped. Severus spent hours and hours on end explaining the more difficult concepts to him, but nothing seemed to stick. He finally had to confess—only in his head, never aloud—that Rodolphus simply _wasn't_ teachable. Rodolphus tried and tried, but he could not grasp much beyond the very fundamentals of magic. He mixed up incantations and could not keep track of which wand movements corresponded to which spells. He was awful at Potions because he did not understand the fine distinctions: why this potion must be stirred counterclockwise, how this potion is affected by the lunar parallax, where this potion must be stored in order to preserve its potency. The only thing he was any good at was Astronomy, though Severus objected, "We only have that once a week, in the middle of the night!" Still, he couldn't help copying off Rodolphus' star charts on Astronomy nights, when his eyes got tired of squinting through the telescope.

Rodolphus didn't mind, of course. He was always accomodating to Severus.

"That's what best friends are for," he'd say brightly.

Severus hated that. He didn't need a best friend, least of all Rodolphus. And all these hours he was spending trying to teach Rodolphus, he could have been using for his own study time. He was still third in their year, _after_ Lily Evans and James Potter, and Remus Lupin was beginning to edge him out of the top three. Academia was his life—he couldn't let three _Gryffindors_ beat him at his own game!

But Rodolphus needed the help. And apart from his one lapse when Severus had been hospitalized, he was being an awfully good sport about keeping quiet about their fathers' secret lives. So Severus indulged him. He was feeling increasingly guilty about the whole affair with the Death Eaters. And he still hadn't heard from Septimus.

"Only three weeks till Christmas," Maud said brightly as they sat down to breakfast one Saturday morning, while glinting white snowflakes drifted down over the Great Hall from the enchanted ceiling.

Severus and Rodolphus shot her poisonous looks. She, Bellatrix and Petula had succeeded in dragging the boys out of the dungeons to have breakfast with everyone else in the Great Hall.

"Have a bit of toast, Severus," Petula pleaded, "you haven't eaten in days."

"I have too," Severus said sullenly. "Just because you haven't seen me eat doesn't mean I haven't been doing it. Anyways, mad people don't eat."

"Mad people do eat, or else there wouldn't be any of them left to bother us," Rodolphus said. At a fierce look from Petula he amended hastily, "But naturally that wouldn't apply to you, being of sound mind and body, and as sane as I am."

"Seeing as you're madder than a mad hatter who's just seen an invisible two-headed elephant clamber out of his teacup and start trimming the hedges," Severus replied, "that's hardly any comfort at all."

Rodolphus stared blankly. "Er..."

"Good morning," murmured a high effeminate voice from behind Severus, making him jump. They all turned to look at Professor Astaroth, who was wearing two pairs of spectacles and carrying a quill and a blank piece of parchment.

"I am required to take down the names of any students who plan to remain at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays," Astaroth said.

"That parchment's blank," said Maud.

"Yes, every Slytherin polled so far has opted to go home. I assume you five are of the same mind, so I will move on-"

"Wait, Professor," Severus said suddenly. "I- I'm going to stay."

He snatched the quill and parchment and quickly, before he could change his mind, he scrawled his name at the top.

"Severus, what are you doing?" Bellatrix asked. "I was going to come stay over a few days at your house."

"I don't feel like going home," Severus replied shortly.

"Can't see your father?" Rodolphus whispered in French. Severus nodded. Rodolphus squinted thoughtfully, then made a split-second decision. "I'm staying too," he declared, seizing the quill and signing his name under Severus'.

"Rodolphus!" Bellatrix exclaimed in consternation. Astaroth hurried away, annoyed, before anyone else could sign up.

"Why'd you do that?" Severus hissed to Rodolphus in French.

"I feel compelled to keep you company, Severus. If it weren't for you going along with what I wanted, you wouldn't even be scared of going home."

"I'm not scared," Severus lied. "And did it ever occur to you that perhaps I might want to be alone?"

"Yes." Rodolphus was mystified.

Severus repeated, "_Alone_! All by myself!"

"Yes, all by ourselves!" Rodolphus said brightly. "We'll have a marvellous time!"

"I don't understand your whispering, but I know you're both completely batty," sighed Bellatrix.

"Not me," Rodolphus said in English, "just Severus."

"Severus is _not_ mad," Petula said firmly.

"Yes I am, I'm mad and cold-blooded. Everyone's saying it."

"No one's saying that!" Petula cried.

At that moment a pair of Hufflepuffs happened to pass by, whispering not very quietly. "There's that Snivellus Snape," said one.

"Yeah, the bastard," said the other. "Mad as a badger and cold-blooded to boot." They threw defiant glares over their shoulders at Severus as they moved away. "I told you so," he said, feeling no triumph.

Petula sighed. "All right. Maybe some people are saying that."

"Everyone," Severus insisted. "I bet that even you and the rest of the Slytherins do."

"We do not!" Petula said vehemently.

"Morning, Rosier," said Rodolphus as Evan Rosier slid into a seat.

"Morning, Rosier," Severus echoed.

"Morning, Rodolphus, Sniv-" Rosier started to mumble.

He froze mid-word. Severus gave him a long glacial scowl before saying to Petula, "I told you so."

Then he got up and walked out of the Great Hall. Behind him he heard Rosier crying out in pain. "Ouch! Petula, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—ow, Rodolphus, it was an accident!"

Severus climbed the marble staircase and wandered aimlesssly through the empty corridors. As he reached the third floor he heard someone's caterwauling accompanied by alarming crashes, and remembered that Peeves the poltergeist loved bouncing around the trophy room.

He tried to ease unobtrusively past the door but Peeves spotted him and shrieked, "Why, it's the nasty firstie, what likes to laugh at other people's miseries! Brute, brute!" He rocketed straight at Severus' face and howled, "_Et tu, Brute_?"

"Leave me alone, Peeves," Severus snapped, fingering his wand in his pocket.

"Leave him alone, Peeves," echoed a hoarse low voice belonging to no one. Severus and Peeves recognized it instantly.

"Sorry, your Bloodiness," Peeves squealed greasily, "didn't know you was here..."

The gaunt figure of the Slytherin ghost rose slowly through the floor. "This is a Slytherin, Peeves. In the future you will refrain from pestering students of my house. You will treat Snape with utmost respect."

"Yes, yes of course, your Bloodiness, whatever you wish!" The poltergeist raced off through the ceiling with a noise like a popping cork.

The Bloody Baron acknowledged Severus' thanks with a wave of his diaphanous hand and sank back through the floor.

Severus suddenly felt like he was suffocating—he had to get outside. He ran down three flights of stairs and straight out the front doors.

It was freezing cold outside, but it had stopped snowing. He leaped over the icy steps and trudged off into the snow. He tried to imagine he was letting his feet take him wherever they wanted to go, but after a few minutes he had to concede that they wanted to go to the same place as his head did: the Dark Forest.

Last night had been a full moon.

He halted fifty feet from the forest. _Calm down_, he told himself. _It won't take long. You're just popping in and out. It won't take a moment._

He had resolved to find the centaur who had saved him and Lily and ask him outright if the beast had been a werewolf. If the answer was yes, he was going to ask who it was. He had to _know_. He couldn't go on wondering.

He took a step forward—and suddenly moved back again. A huge dark shape was approaching under the dark snow-laden boughs of the trees.

Severus squinted, calculating rapidly. Too big for a wolf, and certainly too big for a Jarvey. It walked on two legs—not a centaur. A cold hand closed on his heart: a troll?

But his fears were allayed when the dark figure called, "Mornin'! Beau'iful day!"

It was Rubeus Hagrid. "Good morning, Hagrid," Severus said, relieved.


	16. Tea with Hagrid

The groundskeeper emerged from the forest, holding a block of wood that looked small in his arms, but which could have crushed Severus' head in. He smiled pleasantly. "What's yer name?"

"Severus Snape."

"Yeh lost then, Snape? Yeh know yeh can't go in the fores'."

"I wasn't in the forest," Severus objected. "I was just… looking."

"At what?"

Severus, drawing a blank, panicked and changed the subject abruptly. "What's that?" He pointed at the block of wood Hagrid was carrying.

"This? It's from the trunk of a big oak tree that got struck by lightnin' a couple o' months ago. I was cuttin' firewood, but there're these queer scratches on it I wanted ter look at."

A thrill of fear went down Severus' spine. "Scratches?"

"Look." Hagrid showed him: criss-crossing patterns of five parallel deep grooves incised in the tree trunk. "Like claws, see?"

"Yeah, just like claws. Pretty weird." Severus' knees felt weak.

"My guess is, summat were 'untin' in the forest and its prey got righ' up ter the top of the oak," Hagrid went on. "So this beast digs its claws inter the trunk, tryin' ter climb."

"Did it succeed?"

Hagrid shook his head. "The marks don't go too far up the trunk. Prey probably jumped out o' the tree when the 'unter weren't lookin'."

"That's incredible!" Severus said. "That's exactly right!"

Hagrid looked surprised. Severus said quickly, "That's, ah, that sounds exactly like what would happen."

The groundskeeper still looked mystified. "I, er, I live in the middle of a magical forest like the Dark Forest, and I know a bit about magical creatures' behaviour," Severus explained.

Hagrid cocked his head. "Snape, yeh said? Yeh'd live at Snape 'All, then. Yeah, that's a nice fores'. Well, good on yeh! Good for a boy ter take an interest in magical beasts. D'yeh want ter see summat else interestin'?"

He pulled a large burlap sack from one of the many pockets of his overcoat and opened it. "Take a look at this."

Severus stared. "My God," he said weakly.

It was Ned, or at least what was left of him: a little heap of cold white bones at the bottom of a sack.

"Where did you find this?"

"Close ter the clearin' with the oak. Must've been the prey. Could it a'been a cat d'yeh think?"

Severus suppressed a bitter laugh. "Oh yes, I definitely think it was a cat."

Hagrid snapped his fingers. "Professor Sprout lost 'er cat a couple months ago! Reckon it could be 'ers. Nate, wasn't it?"

"I believe his name was Ned."

"I'll give 'im back ter 'er." Hagrid looked closely at Severus. "All righ' there, Snape? Yeh're all white. Come in for a spot o' tea."

He hustled Severus into his hut by the edge of the forest. As soon as Severus walked in a huge black shape jumped up from the hearth and bounded straight at him. He didn't have time to scream before the wind was knocked out of him—then the beast was licking his face energetically.

"Ah, Fang, geroff 'im!" Hagrid pushed the big dog aside and helped Severus to his feet.

"Fang," Severus said faintly. The black mastiff barked and wagged his tail. "I- I almost thought-" He stopped short.

"Don' worry, Snape, 'e won' 'urt yeh, 'e's jus' frien'ly," Hagrid said brightly, having missed Severus' last remark.

"Of course." Severus gingerly patted Fang on the head. "Er… nice to meet you."

Hagrid was bustling about with a big kettle and a teapot the size of Severus' head. He emptied a package of biscuits onto a dish and set it on the table. "Help yourself!"

"Thanks." Severus hung his cloak over the back of a chair and sat down at the table, a crude slab of wood about as big as his bed, and looked round the cottage. He took in the massive bed in the corner that tried to look like it wasn't taking up half the room, the assortment of rusty pots, pans and various metal tools that hung chaotically from the rafters, the roaring fire in the fireplace, the queer knick-knacks and baubles jumbled on the mantel, the huge armchair covered in a mysterious leatherlike fabric that was definitely not leather.

"It's so…" He searched for a word that was true as well as polite. "Cozy," he finished, relieved to have found one. "It's nice and warm in here."

Fang came over, clearly eyeing the plate of biscuits. Severus fed him one when Hagrid wasn't looking. The dog drooled contentedly on his knee.

"One lump or two?" inquired Hagrid, waving a sugar cube clamped between tongs.

"One."

Hagrid carefully dropped one cube into Severus' teacup and dumped the rest of the sugar cubes into his own huge beaker. "Tea's ready!"

When Severus had finished his tea , he gently pushed Fang's head off his lap and went over to look at the collection of knick-knacks on the mantelpiece. "What's all this stuff?"

"Oh, things I 'aven't got round ter puttin' in order. Most o' it's jus' a bunch o' rubbish."

"Rubbish?" Severus exclaimed, poking through the curios. "A Sneakoscope, a set of Gobstones—ouch!—hey, cool, a biting teacup!"

"I'll- I'll take that," Hagrid said hurriedly, coming over and taking the teacup, looking embarrassed: tea sets were on the Ministry of Magic's Registry for Proscribed Charmable Objects.

Severus was still exploring. Now he was going through a stack of little boxes at one end of the mantelpiece. "Floo powder… Hey Hagrid, are these Chocolate Frog cards?"

"They're only about a tenth o' me old collection," Hagrid said proudly. "But Fang ate the rest of 'em."

Severus sifted through the cards. "Wow, an original Devlin Whitehorn! Hey, Hengist of Woodcroft—my friend Bellatrix's been looking for him for years!"

"Go a'ead, take 'im," Hagrid said.

Severus tore his eyes away from Hengist, who had his eyes crossed and was pulling faces. "What? I couldn't. Hengist is pretty rare."

"No, go on," beamed Hagrid, "take 'im fer yer frien'."

Severus smiled slowly. "Thanks, that's very nice. I'll tell her it's from you." As he pocketed Hengist, a long, wooden box caught his eye. "What's in this one?"

He took down the elaborately carved box. "Careful," cautioned Hagrid.

"Is it stolen jewels? Or a goblin's stash of gold?" Severus joked as he popped the hasp open. He lifted the lid and found himself staring at a broken wand.

"Much more valuable," Hagrid murmured.

"I can see that." The wand had been snapped several times, but the pieces had been carefully lined up and reassembled to the best of Hagrid's ability. Hagrid reached out and stroked his broken wand sadly.

"I miss it. There're times when I feel 'elpless, almos' lonely, withou' my wand."

"I know the feeling," Severus said, thinking of the period he had been unarmed after Potter broke his wand at the Quidditch match.

A very wicked and probably illegal idea struck him. "But…"

Hagrid knew immediately from his tone what he was going to say. "D'yeh know how ter fix it?" he asked, wide-eyed.

Severus shook his head. "Fixing a broken wand is impossible. No, I was thinking about something I read in a book once, that you could still use it if…"

He was hesitating because the suggestion he was about to make was from a book in his father's library, whose lawfulness was dubious.

"Well, it's almost definitely against the law, but for what it's worth, I read that if you line up the bits of wand in some kind of amplifying conductor it'll work again. Maybe not as well or as reliably as it used to, but at least it's something."

Hagrid's face lit up. "Yeah? What kind o' 'conductor'?"

Severus was getting excited too. He looked round the cottage and his gaze alit on a frilled pink umbrella hooked over a rafter. "That umbrella might work. Do you want to try-"

The door banged open, cutting him off mid-sentence, and in clattered Potter, Black, Pettigrew and Lupin. As they entered, Potter and Pettigrew were bellowing an off-key "Deck the Halls" and Black and Lupin cried, "Merry Chri-"

"Oh Christ!" Lupin said, noticing Severus standing with Hagrid.

The Gryffindors' Christmas cheer died immediatedly. "What the hell is _he _doing here?" Potter snarled, glowering at Severus.

"Snape an' me were 'avin a cup o' tea," Hagrid interposed, looking confused by the hostility that suddenly filled the room. "D- d'yeh want ter join us?"

"I'm sorry, Hagrid," Severus said quietly into the appalled silence that followed the question, "but I've got to be going."

"You certainly do," Potter agreed, looking furious.

Hagrid was looking between Severus and the Gryffindors in bafflement. "Are yeh sure yeh won' stay?" he asked Severus.

"He's sure," Black sneered.

Severus smiled thinly. "I have things to do."

He held out the carved wooden box, and Hagrid took it after a moment's hesitation. "If you end up giving it a try," Severus said quietly, nodding toward the pink umbrella, "please do tell me later how it turns out."

" 'Course," Hagrid said, still a bit baffled and wary.

"Thanks for the tea," Severus said politely, though he was itching to grab the biting teacup and fling it in Potter's face. He remembered the card in his pocket. "And for Hengist."

"No problem," Hagrid said.

Severus went to the table and picked up his cloak from his chair. The Gryffindors' eyes followed his movements. The boys parted silently as he came towards the door.

" 'Bye, Hagrid," said Severus. "See you, Fang." The dog barked and wagged his tail.

" 'Bye, Snape…" Hagrid's voice trailed off questioningly.

"We never want to see you here again," Black whispered to Severus as he passed.

"Believe me, you won't," Severus hissed back.

Pettigrew stuck out his foot to trip Severus. Gritting his teeth, the Slytherin stepped over the outstretched leg with as much dignity and contempt as he could muster and strode out. Someone slammed the door behind him.

Once outside Severus halted and leaned against the closed door, trying to keep from bursting with rage.

"Ah, boys, what was that fer?" he heard Hagrid ask amid chairs scraping on the rough floorboards as the Gryffindors usurped Severus' place at the table. "Snape's a good bloke."

"Are you blind, Hagrid?" Potter exclaimed. "He's an arrogant prig! Didn't you hear about his reaction to the news that Amelia Bones' aunt was kidnapped by You-Know-Who?"

"Come on, James, I _know_ yeh were be'ind it all!"

"Hagrid, I categorically deny any involvement in that incident—although if I did know who was the genius behind that prank, I would congratulate him—or her—on a job well done."

"Yeh're lyin' ter me!"

"Hagrid, I'm simply trying to help you. If you're going to make friends with Snape, you've got to be prepared for deceit and treachery, because that's all that that snake is capable of."

Severus bit his lower lip too hard and blood spurted down his chin. He clapped his hand over his mouth and ran for the castle.

"Severus," Rodolphus began as the pair were doing homework in the library, "there are only two weeks till Christmas holidays and I haven't bought any gifts yet."

"My mother will buy whatever I ask for and send it to me," Severus replied, scratching his forehead with the wrong end of his quill and dripping ink on his nose. "What's the difference between monkshood and aconite?" He opened _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ and started to look up aconite.

"I have a better idea," announced Rodolphus, ignoring the Herbology question. Something in his voice made Severus glance up sharply; sure enough, there was an all-too-familiar glint of mischief in his eye. "I want to go buy gifts myself. In Hogsmeade."

_SLAM_, went Severus' book as the approximately nine hundred and fifty magical herbs and fungi between B and Z came crashing down on his hand. "What?"

Rodolphus was looking at the hand crushed between the pages of the book. "Doesn't that hurt, Sev?"

"Yes it does. Very much. But first I want you to say that everything you just said was complete and utter bollocks."

"But it wasn't."

"_No_, Rodolphus," Severus said firmly. "We are never going back there again. Never, never, never. I'd shoot myself in the face with a Blasting Curse again before I'd let you drag me back to- to-"

"We're not going to the Hog's Head, Sev," Rodolphus said hastily, looking alarmed. "_Bon Dieu_, do you think I'm mad? No, I just want to go into the shops."

"Why don't you ask your brother to buy the gifts for you? He's in sixth year, he can go into Hogsmeade legally."

"Rabastan's an idiot, he won't know what to get. Please? We can go one Saturday when it's not a Hogsmeade weekend, so that no one recognizes us even if the Invisibility Cloak slides off us again."

Severus was adamant. "No. Dumbledore will get wind of it and we'll be kicked out of Hogwarts."

"Come on, Sev, I'm begging you! Think of Honeydukes, Zonko's, think of the bookstores! Don't you want to see all the shops and everything properly, when we're not tearing through the village with a madman at our heels?"

"Rodolphus, in only four months I've already gotten more detentions than most fifth years have ever had. I bet the next time I get caught doing something stupid like sneaking out to Hogsmeade to buy Christmas gifts, it'll be expulsion, and I—do—not—want—to—go—home." He jabbed a finger in Rodolphus' chest to emphasize each word.

"I promise nothing bad will happen, Severus," Rodolphus pleaded.

"You can't promise that! And why are you so fixated on this idiotic notion?" Severus asked. The desperate gleam in Rodolphus' eyes gave him a clue.

"You want to get something for _Bellatrix_, don't you?" he said slowly.

Rodolphus blushed madly. "Maybe."

"You don't have to romance her or anything, you know," Severus said, starting to smirk. "Your mothers have been planning your wedding since you were a month old. There's a contract with drops of your blood on it."

Rodolphus had turned a deep eggplant hue. "I hate you," he mumbled.

Severus laughed. "All right, you idiot, I'm giving in. Come on, let's go."

"What, to Hogsmeade? Now?"

"No, to the hospital wing," Severus said, painfully lifting four hundred pages of herbs and fungi off his crushed fingers. "I think I've broken my hand."

"I can't believe I'm sneaking out," whispered Severus, "again."

"Shhh," Rodolphus whispered back. "Do you want to get caught?"

Safely concealed under the Invisibility Cloak, they slithered out of the alleyway. The setting sun painted the snow-topped thatched roofs of the cottages and shops a soft red-orange hue. Other Christmas customers bustled from shop to shop, causing the snow that was piled up in fluffy drifts to swirl up round their feet. Little children crowded at brightly lit windows, giggling at the displays inside. Severus had to admit, it was all tremendously charming.

"Aren't you glad I convinced you to do this?" Rodolphus whispered, grinning. "Look! Honeydukes!"

They negotiated the throngs of customers and grabbed armfuls of sweets, only removing the Invisibility Cloak briefly to toss money onto the counter and then conceal themselves again, much to the bewilderment of the shopkeepers. They did their shopping the same way at Zonko's Joke Shop. "Because stealing stuff would get us caught for certain," Severus explained. "And it's not like we don't _have_ the money to pay for it. I only hope no one recognizes us."

They were skulking at the back of Scrivenshank's Quill Shop, examining a fancy eagle feather that Severus thought would please his mother, when the bell above the door tinkled and a gust of snowy wind billowed in with a tall, smiling wizard.

"Hello Broxtable, how's business?" he greeted the stooped old shopkeeper. His cheeks were pink from the cold but his gravelly voice was pleasant.

"Booming, Rookwood! Everyone's doing their Christmas shopping. Are you looking for something in particular?"

"Well, my friend Leo Bagman—you know Leofric Bagman, don't you, he's a colleague of mine at the Ministry—he got a Howler last week from the head of his department. He was afraid to open it and it incinerated his best quill. Money's no object, Broxtable, but I was thinking perhaps something along the lines of pheasant feather?"

"Sure, we got a new shipment of pheasant feather quills yesterday, let me show you a few," Broxtable said, brushing past the invisible boys to a display case at the back of the store. "Say, Rookwood, that Howler wasn't for that Floo mix-up my friend Hubert told me about, was it?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," Rookwood said stiffly.

"Sure you are!" urged Broxtable as he returned with a handful of quills to the front of the shop, closely followed by Severus and Rodolphus. "Didn't Bagman connect the wrong grates by mistake, and accidentally send a family straight into a secret meeting of the followers of You-Know-Who..."

Severus and Rodolphus stared at each other with huge eyes. "They got out by the skin of their teeth, is what Hubert told me," Broxtable went on eagerly. "Obviously it was just a coincidence, an accident. He said the Ministry was in a tizzy, but by the time you was able to get some Aurors out to Perthshire, they were all gone without a trace, like they'd been tipped off, the whole lot, and with the family as well. Have you found them yet?"

"I'm sorry Broxtable, but it seems you were misinformed," Rookwood replied in his husky whisper. Something about him was oddly familiar, Severus thought. "There was no such incident. Now, would that be Hubert Pertscrew from the Portkey Office? I think I shall have to have a little chat with him. Spreading rumours about coworkers—preposterous, really!"

He gave a rumbling laugh, and Severus and Rodolphus froze.

"_Mysticus_," Severus breathed.

Rookwood jumped about three feet in the air. When he came down again his ruddy face had gone white as death. "What did you say, Broxtable?"

"I didn't say anything," said Broxtable, puzzled. "Er—are you all right, Augustus? You're looking dreadfully pale all of a sudden."

"It's n-nothing," muttered Rookwood, his eyes darting round the shop. "That black one will be fine."

"Have there been many disappearances in your department?" Broxtable enquired.

"No."

"I'm not worried about being kidnapped," the shopkeeper said confidently. "Not with old Albus Dumbledore up at Hogwarts. If there's anyone who can stand up to You-Know-Who, it's Dumbledore. He's the greatest wizard there is. There are rumours going round the village that You-Know-Who's planning a strike on Dumbledore—but even if they're true, I don't believe he'll succeed. Dumbledore's a much more powerful wizard. Don't you think so?"

"I really couldn't say," Rookwood murmured. "But I certainly do hope nothing dreadful happens to poor old Dumbledore. Wouldn't it be simply _awful_ if the last line of defence was overpowered? Go on and ring up the sale, will you Broxtable? It's getting late and I've got a rather important engagement."

"Of course," agreed Broxtable. He was smiling wider now, presumably at the reassuring thought of Dumbledore protecting the little village. "I'm sure you needn't worry about You-Know-Who either, Augustus."

Rookwood gave a humourless laugh. "Believe me, Broxtable, I'm not worrying. And if I ever do have reason to be concerned about You-Know-Who it'll have been my own fault." He paid and left.

The moment the door closed on the cold wind, Severus threw off the Invisibility Cloak and stumbled up to the counter, surprising Broxtable.

"Merciful murtlaps! Where did you come from?" the old shopkeeper exclaimed, clutching his heart.

"Never mind that, just sell me this quill," Severus mumbled, thrusting a handful of silver across the counter. Broxtable peered at him.

"Say, aren't you from Hogwarts?"

"_No_," Severus said flatly, taking his purchase and storming out.

In the snowy street Rodolphus yanked him back under the Invisibility Cloak. "Get back under here, you madman! Are you trying to get us caught?"

Severus grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "What are we going to do?"

"About what?" Rodolphus asked blankly.

"About Dumbledore!" Severus cried. "Weren't you listening to Mysticus and the shopkeeper? You-Know-Who's arranging a strike on Dumbledore! He's going to try to kill him because Dumbledore's his only obstacle on the way to world domination!"

"Broxtable said they were only rumours," Rodolphus objected.

"But Mysticus as good as confirmed they were true! What are we going to do?"

"Why should we do anything?"

"Because the Headmaster could soon be brutally murdered and You-Know-Who would be in charge! Then the whole magical community would be in turmoil and the country would probably rise up in insurrection!"

"But our fathers are Dumbledore's enemies," Rodolphus said in surprise.

Severus stared. "And?"

"If we warned Dumbledore they might get captured and sent to Azkaban prison."

Severus bit his lip. "I know, but... Well, it just doesn't seem fair to let Dumbledore wander round without knowing his life's in danger, particularly when he's been very kind about letting up on my punishments recently."

"So, what, now it's come to a choice between our fathers' lives and Dumbledore's? I must be missing something, because to me it's not a difficult decision. I'll choose Dad any day."

"But..."

"But what?" Rodolphus sighed. "Look, Sev… Maybe we've going about this the wrong way."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, all this time we've been assuming Dumbledore is the greatest wizard on the planet, and You-Know-Who is an upstart. But what if You-Know-Who isn't just some rebel—what if Dumbledore's the crackpot, and You-Know-Who's the genuine article? What if he really can do something about blood purity in the wizarding world?" Severus stared, openmouthed.

"Sev, you know the cardinal common-sense rule of ambition: if you haven't got power, go along with whoever does in order to get some. Right now Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic have got the power. But when You-Know-Who takes over-"

"If," Severus interrupted.

"Fine, _if _he does, then we ought to be with him. I don't know about Septimus, but I'm sure _my _father isn't mad. It's clear which side they've chosen—mustn't they have had their reasons?"

"You don't know that," Severus said. "They could have been brainwashed."

"But suppose they weren't. We trusted their judgment on other things, why not now?"

Severus threw his hands in the air. "Rodolphus, this isn't some stupid decision like which colour jumper to wear in the morning, or how short you should cut your hair—this is potentially a life-changing decision!"

"I know-"

"No you don't," Severus said furiously, "you've completely swallowed all of You-Know-Who's propaganda."

"It's not propaganda," Rodolphus said. "I just think we should be going along with what our fathers have chosen to do."

"You don't have to be exactly like your father, you know!" Severus snapped.

"You're one to talk! You're just like old Septimus in every way!" retorted Rodolphus.

"I AM NOT!"

Everyone in the street stopped and turned to find the source of the shouting. Bewildered at seeing no one there, they carried on with their business. Severus turned and stalked off, with Rodolphus hurrying after him, holding up the Invisibility Cloak.

"Sev… Sev, look, I'm sorry, it was a stupid thing to say, I just said it to rile you. Stop walking so fast, we'll lose the Cloak! I'm sorry, Sev. Please stop."

Severus halted brusquely and Rodolphus quickly rearranged the Cloak over their heads. "There, see, it's-"

Severus clapped a hand over his mouth. With the other hand he pointed mutely through the window of the Three Broomsticks. They stared through the frosted windowpanes at Augustus Rookwood, the Death Eater from the quill shop, slipping into a private room at the back of the busy pub. He had a furtive, nervous manner, as though he knew he shouldn't be going in.

Severus and Rodolphus looked at each other. Then they moved quickly towards the entrance of the pub.

It was warm and cozy inside. Music and laughter filled their ears. A pretty young woman stood behind the bar, giggling coyly as she served the drinks to a group of leering wizards. Every table was full, but no one seemed to have noticed Rookwood disappearing into the private room. Severus saw the door had been left ajar. He pulled Rodolphus towards it.

Rookwood was sitting alone at a table illuminated by a low-burning candle. He was sipping nervously from a tall mug. He pulled out a pocketwatch and scowled.

"You don't think he's meeting—_them_ again, do you?" Rodolphus whispered.

Severus didn't know. He only knew he wanted to be in that room when Rookwood's guest, or guests, arrived.

He turned his head and watched the front door. It wasn't long before a group of witches burst in, bringing with them a gust of wintry air. Pretending the door had been disturbed by the wind, Severus pushed open the door and scuttled in, dragging Rodolphus after him.

"What the-?" Rookwood got up to close the door.

But a thin hand reached out and pushed it open again, and a familiar voice said, "Sorry I'm late."

It wasn't Septimus Snape, or Alphonse Lestrange.

It was Professor Astaroth.


End file.
